


The Family Vulpes

by Wastedtimeee



Series: The BellHunterVerse AU [5]
Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Comedy, Drama, F/M, Family Drama, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:33:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 54,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24084415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wastedtimeee/pseuds/Wastedtimeee
Summary: Set in the BellHunterverse, the story centers around Valerie "Madison" Vulpes and her father "Cameron Vulpes", as both mammals struggle to open up emotionally when romance enters their lives. For Cameron, that struggle involves moving on from the loss of his wife. As for Val, her struggle comes from letting herself be vulnerable to the risk of losing someone she cares about.
Relationships: Oc/Oc Oc/Oc
Series: The BellHunterVerse AU [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/762330
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	1. Light Up The Night

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, I suppose it took me long enough didn't it? Basically a year-long sabbatical after managing to finish LAW. Granted I did get some smaller fics out...like three I think? Not exactly impressive, and I could make excuses over it, and I most certainly will. Nah, I'm not going to go into heavy detail, there was jus5t a lot of factors, both personal and professional that slowed things up a great deal. But with all that said, I hope some of you who are still following my are still moderately excited for “The Family Vulpes”. Some time ago, it was right up alongside LAW as the fic folks wanted to see, and I suppose it's finally time. Now I'm not going to make any hard promises in terms of chapter releases, at this point I can only tell you I'm aiming for a chapter a month. But I don't want to go as far as a hard schedule and shoot myself in the foot over it.
> 
> So I hope you enjoyed the first chapter, the next ones probably going to be longer, as it was originally going to be part of this, but I could tell that would have ended up being like fifty pages. Much too daunting a start for a first chapter. So see you next time around with “Chapter 2”. I'd also like to thank my financial backers, with a very hearty thanks to Unformed8, KarakuriCentral, and Warwolf416 for thier help reviewing and proofreading this chapter.
> 
> Oh, quick PS. To acknowledge the elephant in the room, there is a retcon in the fic, namely that Val's bike has been changed from a “Pandai” to a “Snarly”. It was the motorcycle I should have gone with in the first place, and had my intentions of doing a small overhaul on the original Rehab story had panned out, I would have corrected it already. I hope that clears up any confusion. Thanks,
> 
> -Wasty

The Family Vulpes

Chapter One:  
Light up the Night

The rumble of the old motorcycle's white-hot engine thrummed steadily beneath the young vixen as she sped through the eerily lit service tunnel leading out of the Nocturnal District. The soft, iridescent lighting periodically bathing her form in brief flickers of pink and cyan as she hugged tightly against the body of her bike, her sky blue eyes fixed on what little sliver of road she could see in the flickering vein of light being provided by her faulty headlamp. The service tunnel hadn't exactly been designed for the benefit of mammals like her. The low, weak lighting, funneled through strategically distanced outcroppings of faux crystalline geodes had been designed to coincide with the bare legal minimum required by the Nocturnal District to accommodate more mammals than just the native moles, bats and other subterranean mammals who called the District home. To those mammals who could barely make out any form of illumination as little more than a blip in their peripheral vision, such lighting was perceived as 'good enough' for the rare surface dweller that might have poked their head in for an inspection. 

Of course, as a fox, the young vixen was nocturnal herself. But unlike the mammals who never left the district, her eyes had a harder time adjusting to the pitch blackness that pervaded throughout the areas not meant to be accessed by the general public or visiting tourists. With Zootopia, and even the heart of the Nocturnal District lit up to what some would argue was a blinding degree, even on the darkest nights, her eyes were still struggling to transition to the recent change in intensity. Even with her visor up, and the coif of hair that usually sat draped lazily over her right eye tucked neatly back into the cap of her helmet in order to give her perfect visual clarity, it did little to help better her overall perception.

But the lighting was the least of her problems at present. Despite her faulty headlamp and the dull glow of the crystal sconces, she could still make out enough of what lay ahead of her to account for it at her speed. No, the primary issue was just how tight the tunnel actually was. Again, not being made with mammals like her in mind, nor made to have vehicles driven through it at all, the size of the service tunnel that whizzed past the young vixen filled her with a looming sense of claustrophobia. The roughly cut, natural stone walls provided her with only one rather impromptu motorcycle lane, and just barely. It was a tunnel carved for the barest minimum of use, the rare appearance of a small door or light fixture the only thing setting it apart from a natural formation, and it forced the vixen to keep a close eye for unexpected sharp turns and jutting bits of stone around the edges of the space lest she end up plastered against one of the nondescript cavern walls.

A rough eyeballing of the rather low ceiling that zipped by above told her that it had to be at least four feet, and that was being generous. The low, roughly hewn stone cut roof had forced the vixen to press snugly into the body of her motorcycle. And despite practically being fused with her bike, the vixen could feel the occasional snag of a loose piece of stone chewing at the back of her coat as it flew by. Each tear and shred presumably left a small trail of pale green military issue fabric in her wake as she held her breath to squeeze her body that much more tightly against her bike.

Yet despite the claustrophobia, despite the pain in her chest and the mild anxiety forming a knot in the well of her gut, Valerie Madison “Val” Vulpes smirked to herself in quiet pride as she tightened her grip on Ol' Red's clutch.

The motorcycle let out a snarl as the vixen cranked up her top speed to even more reckless levels, the pale lights now flickering over her in an almost strobing fashion. This is what she lived for after all. Those other, more unpleasant feelings couldn't withstand the deluge of adrenaline and excitement that had swallowed them like a raging whirlpool. The overwhelming pleasurable sensations caused every follicle of fur in her pelt to tingle with electricity, as though each were made of microscopic lightning bolts. It was all for the thrill of the ride. Well that, and the thrill of competition. That same competition that had forced her paw in terms of taking such a dangerous route out of the Nocturnal District in the first place. She was going to win this race, and she was going to beat that smug, self-righteous flying rat that robbed her of first place for the past six street races she had participated in. 

The race was a semi free-for-all. Starting from Falicer's Market in the back allies of the Nocturnal District. All they had to do was make it down to a squalid little misplaced apartment complex called Seaside Towers at the coastline of Savanna Central faster than anyone else. As to how you get there, that was up to the racer so long as it was by bike and the route didn't involve harming other racers along the way. Of course, Val knew that in reality there were precious few routes that led out of the Nocturnal District for average-sized mammals. It was a commonly accepted fact that there was only one road that directed traffic out of the district toward Savanna Central, but only by way of diverting up an underground ramp through Sahara Square before exiting on Vornoy Plaza. But Val, she knew better. Multiple visits to the Nocturnal District with her friend had made her aware of the "Acacia Street'' service tunnel. They had ridden through it before, albeit at much less 'life-threatening' speeds by Ellie's request, and Val had come to know it fairly well. It was a risky maneuver to take it now, sure. Especially with Red's temporary headlamp acting up even more since that dumb suck-up of a hyena had kicked it. But it was bound to get her at least a solid ten to fifteen second lead on the rest of the pack who'd be forced to take the Vornoy on-ramp. And that precious ten to fifteen second was something she desperately needed if she was going to finally snag the top cash prize for once. She owed it to Ol' Red.

The motorcycle's headlamp flickered out once more, leaving Val to the mercy of the faded cave lighting. Reluctantly, the vixen reduced her speed just a hair as she reached paw over her handlebars and swatted at the malfunctioning lamp. The light lamely flickered a few times, but ultimately failed to restart as the vixen grit her teeth.

“Rut me...” Val grumbled, stabbing her lip with one of her fanged teeth as she squinted into the dimly lit tunnel ahead of her. 

The headlamp was a real clunker, but Val had known as much when she strapped it to Ol' Red in the first place. Like most of Ol' Red's replacement parts, at least in the beginning, it had been scavenged from the old Cactus Grove Auto Dump. She could still recall the many trips she and a reluctant Ellie had made to the place, spending the hot summer afternoons fishing through piles of rusted metal to find semi-usable or modifiable parts that could get the old boy back on the road. It took weeks of digging through scrap and having to regularly reassure the possum that she more than likely wouldn't get stung by a scorpion or catch tetanus, but eventually Val had been able to cobble together a working motorcycle from the garbage she had accrued, and most importantly, at least at the time, she had gotten all the parts for a song from the old boar that owned the place.

And while all the work had resulted in what looked like a mobile junk pile, her efforts had finally managed to bring the beast that lived under Ol' Red's hood back from the dead. And with its awakening, so stirred a beast within the vixen's own heart. A creature that craved the freedom Red permitted her, the swelling sense of pride that had come from getting the old machine snarling again all by herself, the feel of the wind whipping through her fur as Ol' Red screamed beneath her thighs. It was an intoxicating mixture of senses, an overwhelming exhilaration that the vixen became immediately addicted to, and that much hungrier for. What was once her grandmother's old motorcycle had become the vixen's spirit machine, a reflection of her soul emblazoned in cherry red paint. And she owed it not only to herself, but her grandmother who had been the first to own Red, and to her mother who had always intended to get it working again to restore him to his former glory; a task that she and her mother had meant to do together.

Of course, such a feat would require pristine parts that were made specifically for the old machine. But genuine parts for a 57' Snarly Davidson that were in good shape for a low price were extremely hard to come by. And when her father had reluctantly allowed her to take the old motorcycle from the family storage locker, even the original parts that had still been usable were in pretty rough shape to begin with. Thus, the road to resurrecting Ol' Red as Grandma Viv' had known him had been a long and difficult one. Especially because her father refused to foot the bill for even the parts she had scrounged from the Junkyard. 

In what Val would argue was a cruel tease, Cameron had reluctantly allowed her to take the bike, but if she wanted to restore that 'death machine', she was going to have to do it on her own. He had even gone as far as ending her allowance in order to wash his paws of the possibility of funding even the slightest portion of a part. As for how she was meant to fund the rest of the restoration on her own, her father's rebuttal was a simple one.

“Get a job.” 

“Get a job”. The vixen could remember the feel of her muzzle curling in disgust at his suggestion. She could still taste the scoff rolling off her tongue. That was a non-option. Val knew from observation alone, especially from watching Ellie work at her own summer job as a waitress at the Dune Cafe in Sahara Square that such work required patience and a willingness to look the other way when it came to stupid, brain dead mammals who saw your service clothes as an invitation to treat you like trash. Val had no sense of patience, especially when it came to said idiots. In fact, she had gotten Ellie in trouble a few times merely for sticking up for her in the face of a particularly thoughtless customer. And while Val wasn't afraid to get her paws dirty doing some menial work, she knew her brand of 'customer service' would see her fired from most establishments before her name had been properly registered with payroll.

No, a traditional job was not in the cards for a vixen like her. Val only had two skills to her name. Her skills as a self-educated mechanic wouldn't be recognized by any legitimate auto shop without some fancy piece of paper to tell them she sat in a classroom long enough to be permitted to blow smoke up a tailpipe, and that would have still required waiting until she was 'old enough' to apply. On top of that, it still would take years of slaving away just to make enough scratch for the parts she so desperately needed. She couldn't stand to wait that long. She needed a quick avenue to make some fast cash. Fortunately for her, she would find an easy hustle in the high risk, high reward world of street racing. An activity that made good use of her other, and yet most prominent skill: her intrinsic intuition for handling a motorcycle  
.  
Illegal? Check. Dangerous? Check. It would give her father a heart attack if he ever found out about it. And if it weren't for the fact that Ellie often covered for her sneaking out, albeit it very reluctantly, the vixen probably would have been caught by now. There was a part of her that felt guilty for lying to the old tod, the same guilt that had her promising to herself that despite the thrill and excitement each race brought her, she'd quit the practice altogether as soon as she had enough cash to finish Ol' Red's repair. She could still picture in her mind's eye the original vintage rear fender, seat, and headlamp listings on Furbay, mere days away from closing. The last original pieces she needed to replace her custom junk fill-ins that had been keeping their spots warm. They would soon be shipped out to their rightful owner: her. All she had to do was win this race. 

“Come on!” Val hissed through her tightly grit teeth. “Just hang on a little longer you piece of-!”

With another swat, the darkened headlamp fizzled back to life just in time to make Val aware of the sudden hard corner jutting out of the right side of the tunnel wall that was approaching at breakneck speed.

Val bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, the vixen gripping her handlebars even tighter as she tried to swerve around the surprise curve. A narrow miss, but not quite narrow enough as the vixen's right hip suddenly screamed with a searing hot pain. She had managed to make it around the edge without it costing her any speed, but she hadn't cleared the edifice well enough to keep her hip from grazing it.

Val let out a hiss, glancing back at the small tear in her jeans. She only had the blink of an eye to analyze the wound, to assess just how much damage she had done to herself before she could delay her focus from the road ahead any longer. She was bleeding, that much she could tell. Thankfully the wound seemed rather superficial, and in a place her father would never see and therefore question exactly how she got it in the first place. Worst case scenario she could have Ellie help her stitch it when she got back home provided it was deep enough to warrant it. The possum had always been good with a first aid kit. 

Turning her attention to the tunnel ahead, Val's grimace was quickly replaced with a confident smirk. She could see the tunnel mouth, the light from the moonlit sky outside fast approaching as she sailed through the final leg of the service road.

Giving the throttle a firm twist, the vixen let out a dull chuckle as she ramped out of the exit, Ol' Red letting out a powerful snarl as she gained a bit of air before landing on the smooth, even pavement of Acacia Street.

“Let's see that dumb bat get one up on me no-.”

Before the vixen could even finish the thought, a cool, sleek machine colored in deep purple with blue under-lighting zipped past her with all the silence and grace of a whispering wind. The chrome accents reflecting the city lights in spectacular fashion as its diminishing tail lights seemed to mock Val. To most mammals on the street, such a sight would have been entrancing, almost awe-inspiring. Like some sort of amazing futuristic device that had escaped the pages of a science-fiction series such as Star Trot in order to grace primitive mammality with its presence. But to Val, the only emotions that painfully familiar sight drew out of her was pure, white-hot ire. 

“Nice try Valley-Girl!” Val heard the annoyingly chipper voice crackle through the commlink in her helmet. The vixen's tail frayed at the sound of that familiar voice. Even if the tone of the flying-foxes words didn't seem to carry any hint of condescension or smugness, Val could feel it in her bones.

"But unfortunately for you, I know the Nocturnal District like the back of my wing." The bat chuckled. 

“How!?” Was all Val could stammer, flipping her visor down with a sharp and frustrated snap before squeezing the throttle that much harder as she began to tail the bat. 

“I was born in the Nocturnal District.” The bat chuckled. “Molded by it.” She added in a playful tone. Her coy reply only drew a quiet hiss from the vixen. 

“And my bike is better suited for cave navigation.” She continued, the comm link sputtering as the bat continued to gain distance from Val, albeit it ever so slightly.

"Actually, It's probably better-suited for...well pretty much anything over that old junker of yours Valley." 

Val winced as she heard a loud, spastic cackle cut into the headset. A cackle that belonged to a mammal she hated almost as much as Amelia Pterotopolis.

“That's a g-great one Ames! What a trash bike!” An annoying voice cackled. The same hyena that had kicked her headlamp before the race. Eddie Cuta, a scrawny shrimp of a spotted hyena who wore far too much pleather and chains for his own good, and a clear second in command in terms of Amelia's little fan club.

“How's that headlight treating you by the way Valsy!?” 

Val rolled her eyes.

“Just fine.” Val replied confidently. “The minor scratch was worth watching you howl like a kit while clasping your sore foot for a good five minutes.”

It wasn't surprising that yet another attempt to earn social circle points had blown up in Eddie's face. The hyena had made a big show of mocking her bike while playing to Amelia and the other racers. Of course, Val wouldn't admit the whole incident would have been funnier if the whole failed attempt at debasing her hadn't actually rutted up her headlamp worse than it was. If not for the flickering alone, then for the fact that it had begun to jiggle slightly with each slight bump in the road.

Val could hear Amelia laugh through her commlink. 

“Yeah, brilliant work Ed, you sure showed her...” Amelia added with a sarcastic tone.

“Seriously though, maybe if you manage to win this race, you should buy yourself something from this century Valley?” The bat chuckled. “At least something younger than your grandma?”

Val growled to herself switching gears as she followed Amelia's tail lights around the corner and on to a one-way street. She had to close that gap. She had to pass her. 

“And buy one of those new, sissy bikes? Something that barely makes a sound even at top speed?” Val laughed. “I'll have you know this bad boy is a North Mammalian classic! This bad boy has soul in its growl!” Val retorted. “They don't make them like this anymore!”

“For good reason.” Amelia replied with a laugh.”The only value something that old has is as a museum piece.”

Ed let out another of his Tourette-induced hyena cackles. "Please! That hunk of junk isn't even good enough for some mammal's private collection!” Eddie laughed. 

“Funny coming from a mammal who rides a cheap bamboo burner from Japanda.” Val snapped back. “Seriously, you get that thing out of a cereal box or what?”

Amelia let out another laugh, earning what sounded like a forced weak chuckle coming from Eddie's side of the comm channel.

“C'mon now Ames...I-It's...I mean it's not that bad, right?” The hyena asked.

“Well...” Amelia replied. “It does look a little like a Trot Wheels toy.” The flying fox giggled. “So much neon green paint...”

Amelia's iridescent violet tail lights were growing closer now, and Val began to lean back into her bike as she cranked up her speed. The vixen twisted the throttle sharply, forcing another loud snarl from the throat of Ol' Red as their pursuit continued.

“Neon Green is cool!” Eddie rebutted. 

“Not if it's almost all neon green.” Amelia replied with a dull chuckle. “Seriously, color theory much Ed?”

Eddie let out an irritated huff loud enough to hear through her earpiece As Val watched Amelia's tail lights swerve onto the next street, one which Val recognized right away as Walnut. It was a significantly wider road, and it gave the vixen a much better shot at actually overtaking the bat once she had caught up to her.

“W-Well!” Eddie seemed to be struggling for words, seemingly buckling under the pressure now that the quips were coming at him from all sides. “A-At least my bike isn't absolute trash! Right Valsy?” The hyena let out a nervous chuckle. As usual, Ed had run out of steam in terms of creative insults and had switched back to his 'greatest hits' out of desperation. 

“Great one...” Val rolled her eyes. “Then again, I suppose a mammal like you would know your trash, right Eddie? After all, you see it in the mirror every day.”

Val's retort earned a snorting giggle from Amelia. 

“Aw, take it easy on him Valley girl, we can't all be as quip-witted as me.” Amelia spoke with a laugh. “Though I do appreciate a mammal that can keep up with me...even if that's all you ever seem to be able to do...” The flying-fox's tone began to drip with a more palpable smugness than before. “Just keep up, and nothing more.”

"We'll see about that..." Val grumbled as she continued to close in on Amelia's chrome nightmare of a bike. By now she was close enough to be able to barely make out Amelia's form gripped tightly around the body of her highly modified beast. She could see the edges of Amelia's wing membranes whipping along with the wind as the flying fox struggled to keep them as tight against the bike as possible. Had Val been willing to ever compliment Amelia, she would have had to hand it to the bat for somehow managing to find a way to race as well as she did with such a massive drag hazard, but Val supposed that's at least what some of Amelia's bike mods had been designed to combat.

Eddie let out another dorky cackle.

“T-That's a good one Ames!” The hyena replied, having quickly shifted back into 'kiss-up' mode.

“Yeah....thanks Ed...” Amelia replied in a dull, disinterested tone.

Val watched as the flying-fox to her front made a sudden, hard turn. Her under-lit chrome beast swiveling into a nearby alleyway and bathing the adjacent brickwork in a bright purple hue as she began to dart down the lane with a deceptively quiet hum. The sudden swivel had caught the vixen off guard, and Val was barely able to follow in Amelia's wake as the weight of her older, bulkier machine nearly skid passed the mouth of the alley. The vixen had been forced to momentarily stop altogether, planting a foot down to keep Ol' Red from spilling over before pushing off the pavement and cranking the bike back up to maximum speed. Still, the misstep had managed to cost her some of what she had gained as Amelia's form was once again indiscernible from her machine. 

Val leaned her body closer against Red's own as she once again trained her gaze to Amelia's taillights. Her sky blue eyes brimming with determination and desperation as she sped through the darkened alley after the bat. 

'Clink'

'Clunk'

Val's ears twitched at the rather odd noise. The vixen was uncertain as to just where it was coming from.

'Clink'

'Clink'

The noise level was consistent, even in tone and volume despite how quickly she was barreling down the cluttered alleyway. But the vixen didn't dare to stop now and check. She couldn't afford to lose a single second now that she was so close to Amelia.

It was then the vixen noticed the beam of light from her headlamp dipping that much more than before, seemingly in time with each 'clink' and 'clunk' that emanated from Red. The old, busted headlamp's slight wobbling had grown into a full bob and shift with each bump in the road.

“Rut me!” Val hissed. The sudden, sharp turn must have jostled it even looser than Eddie's foot, at least that was what the vixen could only assume. At the very least it seemed to remain lit despite the jostling and shaking that continued to rattle through Red's frame as the bike sped over the uneven pavement of the back alley. As long as it stayed on, and focused forward, it was something Val was more than happy to worry about after the race. They were already halfway through the District by now, and it would take a scant few minutes more to reach the finish line. She had to overtake Amelia, she had to win.

Ignoring the noise, Val's attention turned to the fast approaching end of the alley. Unlike before, she knew the bat would have to turn onto Elm, and only in one direction. There was no adjacent alley to cruise across to, and even had there been one, cutting across one of Zootopia's larger through ways without being mindful of the traffic was a death sentence. 

As predicted, Amelia's tail lights swiveled right as she drifted out of the mouth of the alley, and Val followed in turn as she turned onto Elm, hot on Amelia's heels.

Val grinned broadly as she caught sight of Amelia glancing back her way. She could only imagine the look on the flying-foxes face behind the tinted plastic of her visor. Was she surprised? Maybe nervousness? Perhaps she was legitimately afraid, afraid that Val was finally going to break the flying-fox's win-streak? That the vixen would finally dethrone her as the champion of Zootopia's mean streets? The myriad of possibilities that played out in Val's mind filled her with an almost sadistic glee. 

“Hey Val, your bi-!”

Whatever Amelia was going to say was cut off by the sudden intrusion of Eddie's spastic cackle.

“Heya Valsy! Think fast!” Eddie barked.

Val broke her laser-like focus on Amelia in response to Eddie's statement, turning just in time to catch sight of the hyena now cruising up alongside her. Somehow Eddie had managed to catch up to her and Amelia, closing the second place gap while Val’s undivided attention had been fixed on the bat at the head of the pack. Now Eddie was close enough that the vixen could easily make out his face behind his visor, his wide, toothy grin showing off his rather prominent underbite as his deep orange eyes seemed to gleam with a hint of mischief.

Eddie let out a maniacal cackle, and before Val could even react the hyena had suddenly lurched toward her. Stabbing out a clawed finger, the scrawny hyena gave Val's headlamp a hard prod, causing the beam of light to skew off to the sidewalk before ultimately flickering out. 

Seemingly satisfied with his handiwork, Eddie let out another loud cackle before his bike let out a whiny snarl of its own and began to pull ahead of her.

"You knothead!" Val hissed, reaching a paw over her handlebars to straighten her headlamp. 

'Clink'

'Clink'

The noise was back. In truth, it had never really left, but with Val's tunnel vision in regards to Amelia now broken her awareness of the disconcerting sound had been renewed. 

“Val, I thi-!”

"Funny right!?" Val spat as she struggled to straighten her headlamp while maintaining some degree of speed. The light flickered and fizzled as Val managed to shift it back into a straight position, holding it steady with her paw."I'm sure you're super proud of your little toady aren't you!?" 

'Clink'

'Clunk'

She was holding the lamp steady, yet the sound continued. Val squinted slightly as her mind struggled to piece together the strange discordant discrepancy. If she was holding the light still, then it couldn't possibly be making the sound. And if that was the case, then what could possibly-?

'CLANK!'

Blurry. Everything seemed so hazy as Val tried to peer through the suddenly foggy air. The night had been so clear just moments ago, but it was suddenly as if she were back in that service tunnel as she squinted into the distance. The familiar feeling of the wind whipping through her fur had all but ceased, leaving Val feeling somewhat confused.

“I finished?” The vixen asked herself. Surely it was the only explanation. Val felt the rumble of a chuckle form in her throat, only to escape as a weak cough.

A light suddenly shone on the vixen, causing her to squint. It remained solid, but only for a moment before it began to dim and flicker sporadically. The lamp acted as though it were trying to send messages in Horse code as it flashed in Val's face repeatedly.

Val raised a paw weakly, trying to shield her eyes as a form cut across the dying beam. The golden glow of the light source shimmering through what looked like a bat's wing. A wing that could only belong to one mammal.

“Ha, probably here to whine about how I cheated right?” The vixen tried to speak, but her words failed her. In fact, her jaw failed to even move to utter little more than a few slurred syllables.

“Wh-What?” Val thought, her mind trying to piece together what was going on. Something wasn't right. Where were the cheers of the crowd? Where were the other racers? The more the vixen struggled to piece together what was going on, the more aware she became of the growing ringing in her ears, of the shooting pain now wracking through her right leg and head. This wasn't the finish line. How did she even get here? Where was 'here' anyway? The adrenaline was still pulsing through her veins, but the elation, the thrill, all of those other titillating sensations that had previously been flooding Val's body had been suddenly and completely stripped away, leaving her at the mercy of a growing sense of dread and terror.

Amelia's form became more clear as the bat knelt to Val's side, her skin tight chrome and purple colored bodysuit gleaming against the flickering light in the distance. The light from Red's faulty headlamp, still attached to a now upside down and battered bike that sat smashed through what looked like an outdoor patio table. Its flickering beam now seemed like that much more of a mockery as the realization was starting to set in.

Val's heart began to beat faster as she watched Amelia remove her helmet, the flying-fox's orange tuft of hair spilling out as her matching deep amber eyes came to meet Val's own. 

"Val!" Amelia's voice was muffled, almost as if it were coming from someplace far away. The vixen tried to keep her gaze fixed on Amelia's own, but whatever strength she had managed to clutch on to was suddenly starting to slip away. It felt as though the vixen were sitting in an elevator that was lurching downward at an increasing speed, her head growing cloudier and lighter the deeper the descent grew. Against her will, Val felt her head began to slowly crane back, her eyelids growing increasingly heavy as her gaze began to tilt skyward. It was getting colder now, much colder than Val had remembered it being that night.

“Stay with me Valley girl! Stay with me!” Farther now, farther and farther away as Val's vision began to blur, giving way to a rapidly encroaching darkness. 

“Teeth to Tails! Is that gal alright!?” A disembodied, unfamiliar voice, the last thing the vixen heard as her eyes settled on a brightly lit sign hanging against the starlit sky. Neon text reading “Bug Burga” hanging in her periphery for a brief moment before the world fell away.

The next few days remained a bit of a blur to the young vixen as she drifted in and out of consciousness. Fragments of familiar faces appearing only as fleeting images. Weak, hazy visions that would end just as abruptly as they began as she continually succumbed to the overwhelming feeling of exhaustion wracking her mind and body and slipped back into a realm of dreamless sleep. 

In one scene, she could clearly recall seeing her father on the other side of a large glass window, the tod pleading with what appeared to be a pair of police officers, one a wolf, the other a rhino. The larger of the pair seemed to be thoroughly unamused by whatever her father seemed to be frantically explaining to them. His pale grayish-blue irises were glossy with tears, and the fur around his eyes was moist and swollen from what Val could only assume to be hours of crying. For what reason, Val couldn't be sure. And before she could attempt to apply any deeper range of thought on the matter, her eyelids slipped shut.

The next moment of clarity saw Ellie sitting in a chair next within reaching distance. The chubby possum sat balled up in her chair, her pink hairless tail curled around her legs like a security blanket. Her dark amethyst eyes seemingly struggling to read one of her dorky romance novels through a well of tears that seemed to match Val's fathers in terms of intensity. Val wanted to hug the possum, to tell her friend that she would help her get through whatever had brought the painful-looking tears to her eyes. But despite the desire to reach out, to grasp her friend's paw in her own, Val could scarcely muster the energy to move even a finger.

Then, Val saw the possum's ears suddenly perk up, her moist eyes widening in surprise as she darted out a desperate, furless paw toward the vixen. Again, Val tried to move her paw, straining through the haze that seemed to hang around the periphery of her vision to make some sort of contact. She tried to speak, to say something, anything, but she could feel that familiar sense of falling coming back to her. The elevator dropping down a bottomless shaft with her trapped inside as the shroud of exhaustion and tiredness ensnared her once more.

Another brief dance with consciousness and Val caught sight of her father, now looking significantly more emotionally composed, outside the glass partition once again. Unlike before, the tod was now speaking to a group of mammals. Not only the cops she had seen in her earlier, hazy recollection, but another two unfamiliar mammals. One appeared to be some sort of goat or sheep, male judging by the horns, even if one seemed to be missing. Missing or broken? It was too blurry for the vixen to figure out. The other she guessed was more than likely a wolf. No, it had to be a wolf. He looked just like the other officer, and both were significantly taller canines when compared to her father. The vixen tried to raise her paw, finding a minor degree of success as she felt it begin to rise from her side. But she had barely managed to raise it just shy of an inch before that familiar exhaustion overtook her again, her paw falling limp as she slipped back into darkness.

Then finally, light. Her eyes fell open as her vision seemed to narrow on pale, unremarkable ceiling tiles and a solitary sterile fluorescent light fixture. The vixen squinted slightly, her sky blue eyes fighting to remain open against the intensity of the sudden intrusion before a sudden wobbling shadow grew to overtake the glare. A shadow that the vixen quickly realized was her own paw.

The haze that hung over her mind was still thick, her thoughts weary and unfocused, but the pervasive sense of weariness that had continually dragged her back into that world of darkness seemed to have finally relinquished its unrelenting grip on her mind and body. She was awake, and now that she was, she quickly became aware of several things all at once. 

She was in the hospital, that was immediately apparent. The bland white features and uncomfortable bedding, as well as the myriad of machines, made that much clear in an instant. Of course, that realization was immediately overshadowed by the pain in her leg and head. The latter of which was now throbbing so badly the vixen found herself overcome with nausea. She could feel the bile rapidly rising in her throat as her head began to swim, and the vixen's arms suddenly sprang into action as she desperately grasped at the nearby pallet of medical supplies laid out on her nightstand. Her arms felt oddly heavy as they clumsily reached out for what looked like a bedpan. Thankfully, despite the added weight, she managed to hastily snatch the container before emptying out what little bit of foul, substanceless acid her stomach contained into it. 

She had only managed a few dry heaves before the gentle padding of pressure on her back made her aware of something else, and as a painfully tearful eye followed the source of the comforting weight, it came to rest on the familiarly tearful face of her father. The older tod now patting her back softly as he reached another paw out to push Val's hair aside. Cameron offered her a weak, tearful smile as he attempted to reassure her through the pain. It was something that normally should have comforted the vixen. But as her mind continued to scramble through the fog to piece together what had happened to her, the realization that her last clear memories involved illegally street racing behind her father's back meant that not only had the race ended in disaster, but her father was now aware of what she had been doing. Val knew that her father's current demeanor of tears and smiles would soon be followed up with chiding and more than likely a laundry list of restrictions and revoked privileges. 

With a final, particularly acrid heave, Val managed to burp out her first words since returning to the land of the living.

“Oh rut...” The vixen belched weakly.

A mild concussion, along with a femur fracture the doctor would tell her. And on top of that, the cut on her hip had in fact needed stitches, along with several others fresh wounds the vixen hadn't recalled getting before blacking out. All of the injuries were the apparent end result of flipping end over end on her motorcycle before crashing into the outdoor dining area of a Bug Burga. As it had turned out, the 'sound' Val had been hearing coming from Red had nothing to do with the faulty headlamp, and everything to do with the rear fender breaking free and being sucked into the back of the bike’s internal parts. As soon as it had broken free of its moorings, the fender quickly lodged itself between the swingarm and the wheel, causing the bike to spin out from beneath the vixen and leaving her to tumble wildly into the nearby shrubbery as the Red crashed through several outdoor patio fixtures. Val had known the part was rusty, a mere stand-in for the fender she had planned to buy. But she had apparently underestimated just how quickly the metal around the cheap parts fasteners had eroded. Worse still, that had been the least egregious bit of damage on Red's 'autopsy' report as Val would come to find.

While Red hadn't been totaled according to the accident scene photos, much of her work to restore the old motorcycle to his former glory had been completely undone by the incident, promptly erasing all the vixen's time and effort, and setting her back to square one. And that was if, and only if she would even be allowed to see her precious bike again after all was said and done.

The doctor, an older stag, informed the vixen that considering the nature of the accident, she was lucky not to have ended up in some form of heavy traction, or even worse. All things considered, the deer considered Val's injuries minimal. However, her father had clearly been stuck on the words 'heavy traction, or worse'. His features had grown pallid and sickly, the fear in his eyes coupled with his unnerving silence only standing to make her feel that much worse. She felt guilty, for the most part. While it wasn't entirely her own stupidity that had landed her in this situation, she certainly took the lion's share of the blame. She had built a web of lies that had grown increasingly unstable with each new layer she had to add in her pursuit to salvage red. Each race had brought her closer to her goal, while making her increasingly blind to the risks she was taking in her desperation to finish the job. Well that, and crush Amelia.

But the center could not hold. Things simply fell apart. It had all rapidly built up and up, intensifying with each race and every lie until it had exploded in the vixen's face. And where had it left her? It had put her life in danger and made not only a literal wreck out of her most prized possession but a nervous wreck out of her father. But she would have been lying if she didn't admit that she felt the doctor had laid it on a little thicker than he needed to. Had the stag not even mentioned worse outcomes for the vixen, had he not brought up how 'lucky' she was, it would have gone a long way in terrifying her poor old Dad that much less. If there was any mammal who didn't need to hear just how close a brush with death she had experienced, it was her overprotective father. And such unnecessary information would more than likely only serve to add fuel to Cameron's eventual list of demands and restrictions regarding her motorcycling habits.

Of course, Ellie's arrival after school let out just added to the heart-wrenching guilt the young vixen already felt. The chubby possum had practically wrapped herself around the vixen, drenching her patient's gown, as well as the fur underneath in a steady stream of tears. Of course, Val letting out an involuntary yelp from one of Ellie's tighter hugs only managed to send the possum into further hysterics, and made Val feel that much worse in the process.

It was Elanor's own admission of shame that hit Val like a punch it the gut. She apologized to the vixen again and again, as if this had all somehow been her fault. And despite Val's argument to the contrary, it was a point that Ellie would make over and over again throughout her sob choked conversation. 

All the while, Cameron had remained oddly quiet. The worried-looking fox reassuring Ellie, but saying nothing in terms of corroborating Val's guiltiness in regards to the whole affair. It was something that worried Val increasingly as the hours went on. 

Her father had always been a kind, soft-spoken mammal. But this? After what she had done? It was far too serious to let slide with nothing more than tearful elation over her recovery. Not after what had happened to Mom. 

It was during her first physical therapy session, one meant to get her used to using her crutches, when she got a glimpse of the broiling unease and discomfort simmering under her father's pelt. The older tod had managed to avoid bringing up the accident, or any of the details during his time by Val's side. But when the vixen had dared to ask about Ol' Red during her physical therapy, it earned a glare from the tod so fierce that it sent a shiver down the vixen's spine. The simple action had made it clear in no uncertain terms that a very difficult and taxing discussion lay in her future, but Cameron wasn't ready to have it just yet.

It would be up to Ellie to deliver the arguably bad news, at least in terms of what had been done on Val's behest while she lay in a comatose slumber. As it turns out the vixen hadn't imagined the police presence, nor her father's tearful plea to the unamused rhino and a particularly hapless looking wolf. According to the diminutive possum, death hadn't been the only thing Val had a close brush with. Although much to Val's relief, the official story according to those on the scene was that she had been taking part in a joy ride when her front fender came loose and caused the accident. However, the property damage, the speeding, the 'fox' factor, a phrase Ellie muttered with some unease, it painted a particularly grim picture. A picture that prominently featured a tiny, dimly lit, barred cell, along with all the creature comforts provided by a regimented schedule for sleeping, eating, and mandatory activities dedicated to putting her on the path to becoming a 'reformed' citizen. 

Much to the vixen's surprise however, her father's pleading hadn't entirely fallen on deaf ears, allowing the vixen to narrowly avoid juvenile detention by the skin of her teeth. As it just so happened, one of the officers had an in with the owner of the Bug Burga she had crashed her bike into. And it had just so happened that the goat who owned the place had been having trouble retaining an employee willing to work the restaurant's night shift. The location had already been earmarked in several rehabilitation programs, including a 'youth outreach' initiative that Val's unique situation made her a perfect candidate for enrollment at the behest of the ZPD.

Three months, her entire upcoming summer gone in an instant. Devoured by the beast that was fast food wage slavery. Of course, they had granted her the kindness of allowing her six weeks to recover from her wounds before starting, most of which would be devoted to lugging around the cast on her leg.

For a moment the vixen was truly torn over the idea of what was a worse predicament. Would Juvenile hall have been that bad in comparison to slinging greasy burgers at some hole in the wall? Maybe if those cops were still around she could plead to overturn her father's efforts. After all, to her the only difference between both punishments was that one involved handling significantly less hot grease. But it was a fleeting, arguably childish thought. Something she had only lamented to Ellie jokingly before grimly accepting her fate as a future fry cook. At least in fast food prison she would still be able to come home to her best friend Ellie, and to her father. To properly apologize to both of them and to try her best to make amends for the pain she caused.

Even if that meant going without Red for a while, the vixen was willing to accept that. She knew that with a bit of patience there would come a day where she could broach the subject of the motorcycle without drawing the stink 'eye' from her Ol' Mam'. But for the time being, she had one hell of a big screw up to make up for.


	2. Wage War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, kept you waiting huh? Honestly this chapter should have been out about a month and a half ago, but aside from the health problems and commission queue I've been working through, this chapter ended up way longer than it was supposed to. So much longer in fact, that it has been split into two chapters both sitting at 34 pages each. Expect chapter 3 about two weeks from now as it is pretty much done and ready to go up. So that's the great news I suppose. I've got two chapters for you.
> 
> Now for the troubling news. As some of you may be aware, I was recently locked out of my AskDawnAndVern tumb lr account. Long story short there's a verification code required to get in, and I never set that up. The staff was unwilling to help, and was fairly unresponsive. Now for the good news. AskDawnAndVern has a new home at it's very own website “AskTheBellHunters”! It's a dot com site, so all you have to do is punch in “AsktheBellHunters (Dot) com” and boom, you are there! It's even more accessible than tumb lr or Sofurry, open to all to ask questions, and has a better archive system to boot! So feel free to check it out, and spread the word that we've moved! Seriously, every new email I get saying “AskDawnAndVern” has a new follower is starting to hurt.
> 
> Well, enough of my bloviating for now. Please enjoy the emotionally charged chapter that lies ahead of you. Sorry in advance for the feels...

Chapter Two:  
Wage War

If Zootopia was considered to be the crowning achievement of just what mammals of all stripes were capable of when they worked together, then the district of Sahara Square sat proudly as one of the more prominent jewels in that crown. Much like its neighbor to the north, Tundra Town, a Purrculean effort had gone into developing and actively changing the very climate of the district to suit the needs of the mammals that would come to live there. In this case, what was once a fairly temperate stretch of plains was quickly molded by the mammals who worked the land into what would become known as one of the hottest locations in all of North Mammalia despite its sizable distance away from the equator. This was thanks in no small part to the marvel of mammalian engineering found in the massive series of temperature-regulating plants that encircled the district which allowed for the daytime temperatures in the summer to reach the same blistering extremes found in the heart of the true Sahara Desert in Central Afrikat. 

It was what made the district so appealing to those mammals who hailed from desert climates across greater Animalia. Sahara Square acted as a home away from home, a place that felt comforting and familiar in all the right ways, with the added bonus of being largely free from the various strife, famine, and war-torn conditions that crippled many of the Animalia's actual desert civilizations. But even with the district possessing all the perks of a first-world nation without the third world baggage, those mammals who found the sweltering heat of the dunes to be a paradise were comparatively fewer and farther between when compared to Zootopia's other districts. It was something that was greatly reflected in Sahara Square's overall limited sprawl, the bulk of its communal strip limited to about a third of its overall acreage. The rest of the district was left open and uninhabited, with few sparse clusters of apartments, trailer and industrial parks, and the Zootopian Military Reserve Base spaced apart like islands floating in a sea of shimmering sand. 

The deserts of Sahara Square were said to hold many secrets much like its larger counterpart from which its name was derived. Some were well kept, hidden away in that lost ocean of dunes, only to be discovered by those mammals who were strong and tenacious enough to be able to endure the unforgiving heat to seek them out. But other secrets were quite open. In fact, one big 'secret' which could scarcely be called a secret at all, was just how dramatically Sahara Square changed when the seemingly endless reign of the blazing sun finally gave way to the encroaching dark of the desert night. When the scorching heat began to die away, finding itself replaced by a surprisingly sharp chill that crept its way along the night air. 

It was something that wasn't as noticeable on the main street that hugged up tightly against the Oasis hotel, the hustle and bustle of the nightly congregation of mammals kept the streets just warm enough to bite back at the frigid intrusion. But the farther one got from the central hub of Sahara Square, the more that crisp coldness of the night would come to claim the land as its own. It was a transformation that most mammals who had never stepped foot in a desert, let alone many of the mammals who lived in the other districts of Zootopia and rarely ventured into Sahara Square had next to no clue existed. To them, Sahara Square was always hot. After all, every poster, every piece of media and promotional material portrayed it as a scalding paradise filled with enigmatic mirages and glistening golden spires. To imagine it any other way seemed to be a contradiction, and yet that was what the desert night provided, and to Val it was simply one of the many perks of living there that the vixen had come to treasure.

Val shuddered slightly as a cool breeze poured over the lip of the open window of her father's Bark car and trickled its way down the back of her coat as she leaned against the passenger side door. The sun had long since given up its tyrannical grip on the golden dunes of the land after the longest day of the year, and the icy chill of what Val would consider a perfect desert night fully enveloped the small, suburban strip of homes off Aloe Street. It was the first night of Summer, a night that would have been perfect for riding down the mostly empty, narrow strips of pavement that ran over the back dunes of the district like the threads of a spider’s web. Cool wind whipping through her fur as she cut through the darkness on her screaming red demon of a Snarly, revving it as loudly as she wanted without a care in the world. There were no mammals to complain about the noise out there, no one to drag the ZPD out of the station on their behalf to ruin her night. Just her, Red, and the sparkling sea of stars above to lose herself in. She could picture them in her mind's eye, glittering like diamonds amidst a tapestry of black and purple hues, the light pollution of the Oasis hotel just far enough away to barely obscure their true splendor. This was the perfect kind of night for riding, a night for the vixen to claim for herself. One that should have belonged to her.

But Red was gone. As far as the vixen knew her most prized possession was still sitting in a scrapyard somewhere, the battered husk of a machine inching ever closer to being gutted for parts by some other savvy motor-head or compacted into a cube of easy to store scrap slag. Her father had remained largely tight-lipped as to the ultimate fate of Red during her time spent in physical therapy. And in the time between the vixen had been largely confined to her room, the growing awkwardness of averting any serious discussions between the two about the true state of things forcing both her and her father to rely heavily on Ellie as a go-between while the vixen served her sentence in terms of 'being grounded'. Under differing circumstances, having primarily Ellie for company should have been more than tolerable. But Ellie's overwhelming and hard to dissuade sense of guilt about the entire situation had made the possum's bedside manner a veritable minefield. Val found herself caught trying to maintain a difficult and delicate dance between easing poor Ellie's guilt and feelings of personal responsibility for her accident while at the same time trying to keep the possum from breaking down entirely and revealing the full scope of just how much lying Val had done to her father.

Ellie knew about the racing, and what's more she knew that Val hadn't been making extra money fishing recyclables out of the scrap piles at the old Cactus Grove Auto Dump for Mister Sandersnout. Val was sure those two tidbits of information getting back to her Ol' Mam had the very real possibility of sending the older tod into a full-scale nervous breakdown if the possum felt the need to clear her conscience now. It was a fact that only added Val's own sense of building guilt while consoling the possum, both for what she had put her through, and what she was still putting her through in terms of keeping those secrets. And so the prospect of even thinking of asking Ellie to broach the subject of Red's status to Cameron was shamefully unthinkable.

But even if she had Red, it would have mattered little. Though school was out, Val's weekends were now the property of the Bug-Burga Corporation. Her Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday nights found her enlisted into the servitude of the dive of a fast-food chain thanks to her father's little agreement with the ZPD. From now until Sunday evening, recurring over the next three months, she was officially a wage slave. A prisoner of a different kind, wearing gold and crimson stripes instead of a pure orange jumpsuit. Being told what to do, and how to do it. And of course, forced to grin and bear it around the worst kind of mammals Zootopia had on offer. Customers. The only real difference is that at least she was getting paid, a paltry sum though it may have been, but at least it was better than nothing. Still, there was a part of Val that felt that given the choice between being a paid fry cook, or being penniless and having her summer nights to herself, even if it was from the inside of a small cell, the latter choice might have been preferable.

The vixen crossed her arms, letting out a quiet huff. Her sharp exhale momentarily causing the tip of her coif of hair to dance in the breeze before settling back against her nose. Val nestled deeper into the upholstered pleather seat, her glare momentarily fixing on the two-story adobe townhouse that sat in front of her just in time to catch sight of the front door swinging open to reveal her father.

The tall, lean, brown-haired tod seemed to be in pleasant spirits, a sharp contrast to Val's current mood as he slung the tail end of a striped, earthy colored scarf over his shoulder. Ellie seemed to be tailing closely behind him, the diminutive possum gripping the edge of the front door as Cameron turned back to face her. Val crooked an ear in the direction of the pair, despite shifting her gaze to the floor of the car.

“Now I'll be back in about...” The tod paused, tapping his chin for a moment as he seemed to be crunching the numbers in his head for an estimate. “Ehh...thirty minutes-ish?” Cameron added, pulling at the brim of his thin black and grey jacket in order to adjust the fit.

“I did want to stop at the Krogrrr to pick up some milk before I got back.” The fox scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe some ice cream? Is there any left?”

“I think Val ate the last of it.” Ellie replied meekly.

“That was TOTALLY you!” Val barked from the car defiantly, causing Ellie to let out a squeak as she retracted further behind the door. Cameron placed his paws on his hips, glancing to the ground momentarily as he shook his head.

“Well regardless, it was Val's choice on what ice cream I brought back the last time, so you get to pick for this run.” Cameron replied with a chuckle.

“Um...m-maybe raspberry jelly ring?” Ellie muttered, a hint of hopefulness in her voice.

Cameron smiled as he gave Ellie's messy black and white head fur an affectionate tousle, causing the possum to squirm under his paw bashfully.

“Alright, two pints of raspberry jelly ring ice cream coming up!” Cameron remarked cheerfully.

Val let out an exasperated sigh, crossing her arms defiantly once more as she slipped down into her seat. She hated raspberry jelly ring ice cream.

“So you know the drill Ellie, lock the doors, and if you cook anything on the stove remember to shut it off, okay?” Cameron continued, adjusting his rectangular spectacles as he spoke.

Ellie nodded affirmatively, giggling. “I-I know!”

“And if you take one of your 'possum naps'' outside of your room-” The fox tutted, raising a finger. “Please don't pick a high spot to hang from, or at least set up a few pillows underneath your hanging spot before you do.” Cameron chuckled. “ Last thing this household needs is another concussion.”

“I know D-!” The possum stopped herself, blushing sharply. “I mean, I-I know Cameron.”

The fox shook his head, letting out a soft chuckle. “Ellie, we've been over this.” Cameron flashed the possum a warm smile. “If you want to call me Dad, it's okay sweetie. You are family.” 

Ellie's blush seemed to deepen, the possum's amethyst eyes drifting to the floor as her thick pink tail coiled around her legs as if she were trying to hide herself.

“I-I know...” Ellie replied meekly.

“If it helps you feel more at home, then it's fine with me.” Cameron placed a paw on the possum’s shoulder. “And you know Val doesn't mind sharing her old Mam' when it comes to you.” The fox chuckled.

Ellie glanced at Val from the side of her eyes, the vixen barely making eye contact as her ears folded tightly behind her head.

“I-I guess...” Ellie muttered.

Val chuckled softly to herself. After all, the vixen knew the real reason why Ellie did her best to keep from calling Cameron 'her father', and while she found her best friend's little crush on the old tod kind of gross as most mammals in her position would, she had been sworn to desperate secrecy by the possum. It was a promise the vixen made under the conditions of the ironclad contract that came with having been best friend's for life. A blood oath. And by the gods, Val was going to keep that promise. It was the least she could do for her 'little sis'. 

“Well, I suppose it's time to get going.” Cameron chirped, the tod spinning on his heel as he turned to face the car. “I imagine the roads are going to be busier than average what with all the summer solstice celebrations going on, and I'd hate to make Val late for her big first day of work.”

Cameron's proud smile made Val's stomach turn, and the vixen sank lower into her seat. To her, it almost seemed like the tod was enjoying this.

Offering the possum a passive wave, the older fox began his stride toward the green fox-sized compact.

“Remember what I said Ellie!” Cameron barked.

“O-Of course!” The possum replied awkwardly, wrapping her other gangly paw around the edge of the door for a moment before her eyes found Val's again. Ellie offered her friend a meek wave.

“G-Good luck Sis!” Ellie called out. Val merely shook her head, watching as Ellie's wave slowly withered, her awkward smile dipping before the marsupial slipped out of sight behind the door.

With a click the driver's door flew open, the ajar alarm ringing out for a few moments as Cameron plopped into his seat. The older tod let out a groan, taking a moment to make sure his large, bushy tail was tucked into the car before slamming his door shut, and leaving the pair in momentary silence.

Slipping his key into the ignition, Cameron glanced over to his daughter, his green eyes finding a rather bored-looking vixen pressed tightly into the back of her seat with her arms folded.

“Seat-belt.” Cameron tutted, as the older tod pulled his own over his shoulder, jamming it blindly toward the direction of the latch for a few moments before the telltale click told him it was secure.

Val sighed, but didn't hesitate to follow his instruction, the older fox waiting for the sound of that familiar click of security before turning the key.

The modest-sized car rumbled to life, with the engine letting out a pitiful cry that, when compared to Ol’ Red, sounded like a newborn kitten mewling. As if Val wasn't already in enough of a bad mood tonight, her father's persistent taste in lame economy vehicles made her mood all the more dour. Granted, she never expected her rather cautious, homebody of a father to buy some loud, wild sports car. But a bark car was at the bottom of the rung in terms of 'impressive vehicles”, and while the vixen rarely cared what other mammals thought of her, the prospect of being recognized while riding in what the vixen would have jokingly referred to as a 'Whisker Price' toy made her want to curl into a ball and disappear.

“Honey...” Cameron uttered, drawing the vixen's eyes slightly. The older tod tapped the steering wheel a few times playfully with his paws as he offered his daughter a small, warm smile.

“I know this isn't...ideal...” The fox began, his smile faltering slightly as he braced the back of his neck with a paw. “But there's gotta be something you're looking forward to with your first job?”

Val remained silent, her answer encapsulated by her dull, unenthusiastic glare that remained fixed on her father's own, unwavering and unmoving for several seconds. But despite her 'reply', the older tod seemed desperate to raise her spirits.

“Vy...” The fox cooed, plying the well of pet names he had for her. “C'mon, there must be something?” The fox's smile broadened hopefully despite the growing sadness Val could see behind his eyes. “Surely being a fry cook in a nice, air-conditioned restaurant is better than scouring that old boar Sandersnout's junkyard for scrap money in the blistering heat?”

Val continued her silent stare, the only change in movement coming from her brow as it furrowed slightly.

Cameron let out a tired sigh as his smile fell, the older tod shaking his head as he reached a paw out toward the radio. With a twist of the dial, the sound of ZNN news began warbling through the speakers. Low at first, but rising steadily until the fox seemed to find a volume he was satisfied with.

“Okay...” Cameron huffed. “The silent treatment continues.”

Val turned her attention to the passenger side window, her form slumping against the interior of the door as she felt the car begin to move. Outwardly she appeared to remain cold, cool and collected. But inside, it had taken everything the vixen had to keep up the cold shoulder act. 

'Something you're looking forward to?' The vixen turned the words over in her head again and again, the 'v' in her brow deepening as the irritation continued to bubble up inside of her. Working at Bug-Burga was nothing to look forward to. Slinging greasy Bug-Patties and Cicada chips was a job envied by no mammal. For her father to even try and pretend that there was a positive buried somewhere in service industry drudge work was almost insulting, and that would have been under normal circumstances. Somewhere out in an alternate universe version of Zootopia where Val would have willingly chosen to work at the Bug-Burga, happily serving a bunch of fat, moronic mammals while wearing a vapid smile to go along with her empty head. 

No, her father seemed to be forgetting, willfully or otherwise, that Val was being forced to work at that detestable place. And that meant that regardless of how truly awful it turned out to be, or how much she hated it, she had to stay. She had to endure three months sacrificing more than half of her weeknights to grueling, thankless service work that she was forbidden from turning down. No matter how bad a customer she would be forced to tangle with, or how obnoxious her co-workers would prove to be, she would be stuck there. Chained to the Bug-Burga as all those beautiful Sahara Square nights passed by without her being able to truly bask in their splendor. The golden dunes and old back roads free of the tread of her tires. The air still and quiet, absent of Ol' Red's proud roar ripping through the star-lit night.

Val's blue irises glimmered dully as she watched the adobe structures creep by the car window, the vixen quick to wipe away a small tear that had begun to form in the corner of her eye as she thought back to Ol' Red's ultimate fate. In-between the passing scenery the vixen kept seeing flickers of pistons and steam, of large steel presses and smoldering blast furnaces. She could easily picture the ruined husk of her pride and joy in her mind's eye as she imagined it drifting lazily down a conveyor belt, inching closer and closer to the hungry steel jaws that would reduce it to an unsalvageable brick of scrap in the blink of an eye.

Val grit her teeth, blinking sharply in an attempt to chase away the hateful mental images. But her efforts had merely managed to swap out one nightmarish fantasy for another. This time she could see old Mam' Sandersnout, his face and muzzle obscured by a welding mask as he haphazardly cut away at Red's frame. She could practically hear the old pudgy hog's voice as he muttered to himself, gleefully estimating prices for the various chunks of Red he cut away with about as much precision as one carves into a roasted chicken.

Val could feel another tear welling up in her eye, the vixen swabbing at it with a balled fist as she struggled to stifle the urge to scream in frustration. It wasn't fair. While the vixen knew it was true that she had broken more laws than even the ZPD had been fully made aware of, as well as the lies she had fed to her father were all on her, certainly, Ol' Red’s ownership shouldn't have been a part of the punishment. It was supposed to be hers after all. It had been passed from her grandmother, to her mother, to her, even if that second passing had been unexpectedly premature.

Her mother had meant to work on the old bike with her. Even in her hazy kithood memories she could recall her mother's many promises about fixing up the old machine with her, and taking her for a ride despite the older vixen not being as skilled at handling the thing as grandma Viv had allegedly been. But those promises were stolen from the both of them. The potential memories of evenings bonding in the family garage, of learning how to repair and upkeep the old motorcycle together were reduced to little more than mere daydreams of what life could have been like had the cancer not snuffed them out in their crib. Marian's illness didn't care about promises she had made, and ignored the pleas to the various gods and goddesses to spare Marian's life for her and her father. It remained cold and unfeeling no matter how many tears the Vulpes family shed as it stole her mother away piece by piece until there was nothing left behind but wispy, murky memories and the few possessions she had left behind. A pawful of truly personal belongings that Val and her father now hoarded like priceless treasures.

Ol' Red had been one of those treasures, one that the vixen considered to be the centerpiece of her collection of memories that linked directly to what little she could actually recall of her mother. As well as the only thing she couldn't actively fit in the storage bin under her bed that contained her mother's Gamepup and other smaller personal items. Red represented a piece of the vixen she never truly got to know, and the long journey the little vixen had taken learning how to maintain and restore the old bike had been her way of honoring her mother's memory even before she had realized that she was just as much a natural at biking as her grandmother was. Ol' Red was meant to be a monument to Marian, a way to fulfill the promises the older vixen had been robbed of being able to keep. And with Red gone, and presumably inching ever closer to being scrapped by the hour, all of Val's efforts would prove to have been as pointless as her prayers for Marian's health as a kit.

Val struggled to shake away the pervasive thoughts, the vixen desperately trying to fix her attention on anything that would keep her mind occupied without directly inviting her father's commentary. The vixen cocked an ear toward the radio, hoping whatever ZNN was jabbering on about would create enough mental noise to silence the painful memories that were clawing their way up to the surface from deep within her soul.

“While under normal circumstances the package should have never reached any of the mammals in Gazelle's entourage without going through security screening, Chief Fadel Drome of the Sahara Square ZPD has speculated that the package had been slipped in along with other packages that had already been cleared by the singer's security team. This means that whoever planted the device either had access to, or had an accomplice with access to the backstage areas of the Oasis Hotel.” Karla Mewler, the voice of ZNN's late-night news radio explained, the vixen only sort of half-listening as she stared out across the open dunes. They were nearing Vornoy Plaza now, and soon they would be passing under the massive wall of exhaust heaters that separated Sahara Square from Savanna Central. 

“ When asked if it were possible that this “Gazelle Stalker' was actually working as an employee at the Oasis Hotel, Chief Drome replied with a statement saying that 'At this time we can't rule anything out.'” The feline continued, her voice deepening as she tried her paw at doing an impression of the old camel. Val tried to keep herself from smirking. There was something to be said about the professionalism of those working in the late night time-slots at ZNN.

“Naturally the Oasis hotel has been closed down while the ZPD conduct their investigation, and the lockdown is expected to continue over the weekend as detectives review the hotel and casino's security footage and question staff members.” Val could hear the faint tapping of papers on the other end of the broadcast, as though the leopard was straightening her notes. “ When asked about the closing, the hotel's owner, Jacques Chacal, had this to say.”

The radio's tenor shifted to a more masculine, swarthy sounding mammal, the background hiss in the audio presumably caused by wind buffeting the microphone. “I, as well as the rest of the staff are truly shocked and appalled by the attempt on Miss Gazelle’s life, as well as the injuries sustained by her backup dancer Armand Clawdio.” The mammal said in a solemn tone. “ But rest assured we are doing all we can to cooperate with the ZPD, and we here at the Oasis Hotel are committed to taking the steps to ensure that something like this horrific attack will never happen again.” Chacal continued.” Although I lament that the public won’t be able to enjoy our facilities for the duration of the Summer Solstice holiday due to the ongoing investigation, and our efforts to improve security. It is a sacrifice we are willing to make for the future of all those who visit the Oasis Hotel, whether it’s our patrons, staff, or performers. Safety going forward is our number one concern.” 

“Gazelle's dancer is still in critical condition, but is reported to be stable at this time.” Mewler cut in at the presumed end of the sound bite. “We here at ZNN will keep you informed as the story continues to develop.” Mewler softly cleared her throat. “That said, this concludes our top stories for the hour. Coming up next, it's the District Weather forecast with meteorologist Caleb Buckston.”

“Can you believe that?” Cameron spoke up, snapping Val to attention. The vixen blinked rapidly for a few moments, her senses returning to her swiftly at the realization that her father was attempting to address her again. It appeared that Val had allowed herself to become a bit too distracted by ZNN's broadcast in her desperate attempt to re-bury her more painful memories to the point where she had stopped actively attempting to rein in her body language. The vixen was now fully aware that her ears were standing sharply on end, both skewed toward the radio and acting as massive red flags to clue the older tod in that she was listening. 

“Some crazy fan tried to permanently scar Gazelle with an acid bomb disguised as fan mail, and in our own backyard no less?”

Cameron shook his head dismissively. “Kinda scary to think that mammal is still out there somewhere...” The fox furrowed his brow worryingly, casting a sideways glance at the vixen. “Might even be a neighbor or something...” The older tod shuddered.

Val was quick to flatten her ears, the vixen pressing herself deeper against the passenger side door and letting out an annoyed huff sharp enough to fog up the window glass. Her father however, seemingly refused to take Val's little show as a sign that she was still not in the mood to 'talk'.

“I hate to say I'm glad that one of her dancer's opened the package instead of her but...” The fox prattled on while Val refused to look in the direction of the old tod, the Vornoy tunnel had made it dark enough for Cameron to show up in the reflection of the passenger side window. The fox was once again idly tapping his paws against the lip of the steering wheel as they sat in mild traffic, the weak smile pointed in her direction undercut by his increasingly sad green eyes.

“Still I'm surprised that someone managed to get past all those security measures.” The fox continued. “The Oasis Hotel's security staff was one of the absolute best I'd ever seen when I used to work there...”

Val could see Cameron's reflection turn to gaze out of his own side window, the older fox letting out a sigh.

“D-Did I ever tell you I used to work there?” Cameron stammered slightly, the confidence in his tone starting to waver as he spoke. Still the vixen remained resolute, her arms crossed tightly as she forced a majority of her gaze beyond her own window and into the dimly lit side of the tunnel. While there wasn't much to look at, the last thing she wanted to do was give her old mam' the impression that she was listening.

“Back when I was starting college I worked there as a bellhop.” The fox offered a weak chuckle. “Of course with most of that money going to my tuition I was basically living on bread and water for most of my first semester.” Val could see the fox shake his head in the reflection. 

“Thankfully by the time I met your mother some mammals on staff had seen fit to bump me up to black jackal dealer.” The fox pushed his glasses back up onto his snout with a finger. “Not exactly winning the war against fox stereotyping by taking that job, but the pay was decent...” The older fox chuckled. “And I was a pretty mean shuffler back in the day.” Cameron continued with a wry smirk. “Although I learned to keep my sleeves rolled up pretty quickly while working the floor.”

As they cleared the long, dark tunnel, and entered Savannah Central proper, her father's reflection dissipated, his image dispelled by the flush of bright commercial lighting that now assaulted the car from all sides.

“It made it possible to actually take M-Marian out on the kind of dates she deserved, instead of our usual campus picnics...” Cameron's tone quavered, breaking slightly as the older fox fumbled over Marian's name. “Not that those were bad mind you...just...” 

Cameron's voice trailed off as the car rolled to a slow stop. From the corner of her eye, Val could see the red gleam shimmering from the stoplight that hung high above the car. It took a few moments for the vixen to realize her father's droning commentary had finally ceased, the Bark Car now only filled with the relatively quiet background buzz of radio commercials. It would have been cause for a sigh of relief, if Val hadn't been concerned that making any form of noise at this point would simply invite more awkward commentary from the older tod. 

Thankfully the silence lingered, the red light holding for what seemed like an eternity without so much as a word from her father before shifting to green. For a moment Val thought she might have been in the clear, at least until they reached the accursed Bur-Burga she had wrecked outside of. That was, until she heard another sigh from Cameron's side of the car.

They had only just begun to pull away from the light when Val noticed that the car had begun to sidle up close to the nearby sidewalk before crawling to a stop. The surprising maneuver had drawn Val's gaze to her father as she watched the tod throw the parking brake on before reaching a paw out and turning off the radio.

Fixing his gaze on Val, the older fox's ears sagged sharply.

“Valerie.” The fox spoke with a vague sense of assertiveness that Val knew wasn't genuine. Her father had never been great at conveying a sense of authority. The older fox frowned. “Look, I know you aren't happy about this.” The older fox shook his head. “The gods know I'm not happy with it either, but please talk to me.” The older fox pleaded. “I'd rather have you fighting with me for the next three months’ worth of rides than simply have you shut me out entirely.”

Val narrowed her gaze at the tod. “You seem pretty happy to me.” The vixen hissed.

“Happy my daughter isn't locked away in the Glacier Falls Juvenile Detention Center for six months?” The fox was quick to rebut. “That she won't earn a criminal record over it? Wow, who'd have thought?” The fox chuckled dully. “I’m practically ecstatic.” He added with a sarcasm reminiscent of the vixen’s own.

Glancing back out the window, the vixen made a quick scan of the side street before spotting the mouth of Vornoy's subway terminal. 

Flashing her father a dull glare, the vixen stabbed a thumb in the direction of the terminal.

“Hey, if you want an easy out on the silent treatment, I'd be more than happy to take the subway to 'work'.” The vixen grumbled, the word 'work' dripping with bitterness as it left her muzzle. 

Val suddenly perked up, feigning a look of mock innocence.

“Or if I still had my license I could drive myself!” The vixen mock cooed before slumping back into her seat and scowling. “Even if it was in a tinker toy like this...” the vixen muttered under her breath.

Cameron rolled his eyes.

“You know as well as I do that particular ship has sailed for at least six months Valerie.” Cameron retorted, waggling a finger. “Your reckless behavior cost you that privilege.”

Val let out a scoff sharp enough to cause her coif to bounce against her nose, the vixen defensively crossing her arms tightly over her chest once more.

Cameron raised his paws defensively.

“I'm not the bad mammal here, okay?” Cameron replied. “I'm not the mammal who made the call on taking your license away. I was too busy begging to make sure you didn't wind up in jail!” The fox huffed. “I didn't exactly have any 'wiggle room' in terms of negotiating!”

Val let out a derisive snort. “Did you even try?” The vixen spat back. “Ten PM to six AM, four nights a week for three months, and I have to be escorted to and from that crap hole like I'm a little kit?”

The older fox rolled his eyes again. “Have you ever heard the phrase 'beggars can't be choosers?'”

Now it was the vixen's turn to roll her eyes.

“Valerie Madison Vulpes.” Cameron snapped back, the older fox pulling the 'use of full name' card to underline the severity of whatever point he was about to make. “You know as well as I do that it is not my fault that you are in this situation!” The tod's tone was low but firm. “So don't try to pretend that this is all somehow on me. I didn't encourage you to sneak out at night to take joy rides, nor did I encourage you to ride around on an unfinished bike!” The older fox huffed. 

“No, I was the one who threw myself at the mercy of the ZPD on your behalf.” Cameron continued, his voice softening as sadness began to douse the heat of ire that had previously taken hold of his tone. “I had to endure the overwhelming terror of nearly losing you in an accident that was completely and totally avoidable, and then I barely get any time to catch my breath before learning that I would be losing you to a correctional facility for half a year!”

The older fox let out a soft whine. ”And if it wasn't for that wolf officer who took pity on me, you would more than likely be holed up in a frigid cold detainment cell up in Tundra Town!”

Val was shrinking deeper into her seat, but no longer out of defiance. Instead, the swell of guilt that had been sitting deep in her gut had begun rising back up to the surface. The vixen winced softly, her ears sagging to match her father's own as she watched the older tod run a trembling paw through his mane of brown head fur nervously.

“Six months Valerie!” The tod reiterated. “Saint Robin's quiver, six months!”

Cameron shook his head briskly. 

“You may think you have limited freedom now, but Val, but that's still considerably more freedom then you would have been offered up there.” The tod extended a paw, gesturing toward the vixen. “Instead of eight hours a day, four days a week, you'd be working all week.” The fox continued, waving his paw around as though he were trying to paint a phantom image to fit his description. “With every aspect of your life regimented and monitored, twenty-four-seven.” 

The vixen's cringe deepened. While this information was not news to her, it was making it increasingly clear just how much the same information had been weighing on her father's mind. It only served to pile more guilt onto the vixen's plate.

“Six months locked away in Tundratown.” The fox circled back to his previous statement as he began to whimper. “An entire half a year where I would barely get to see you.” 

Val could see a sheen of moisture starting to form over her father's gleaming green eyes.

“Where Ellie would barely get to see you...and I ju-.” The fox let out a hard sniffle before turning away from Val, the older tod pawing at his eyes just as stubbornly as Val had been earlier.

“I told myself I wouldn't do this tonight...” The fox said with a shudder. “I know I-I'm just telling you what you already know I just...” The tod trailed off for a moment, adjusting his glasses as he let off another sharp sniffle in an attempt to stifle his tears. Cameron drew some of the loose hair out of his eyes as he turned his attention back to the vixen.

“You know how much I worry about you Valerie.” Cameron admitted. “I don't want to prevent you from spreading your wings but then things like this happen and I...” The tod paused, pressing his fingers to his brow before letting out a sigh.

“When I got that call about the accident that night, just hearing that got me so worked up I practically had one paw in the grave from the stress and fear alone.” Cameron continued, lifting his lenses to swab the corners of his eyes once more. “If you had ended up locked away for six months that...” The fox offered a weak, withering chuckle. “That might have been enough to finish me off.”

Val's head slunk deep between her shoulders, her muzzle downcast in shame. As she had suspected, this was more than likely just the tip of the iceberg that was the difficult discussion that her father had been sitting on since the night of her accident. It was a bridge she knew they should have crossed weeks ago, but she, much like her father, was just as reluctant to cross that bridge despite the fear welling inside her over Red's fate. Of course, that had meant that one of them would have to reach a breaking point sooner or later, and Val's attempt to stave off the conversation just a little bit longer by being combative during their first real alone time together in six weeks had broken the proverbial dam on her father's side. And while she hated to see her father cry more than anything, it was time to put an end to the act and be honest with him as well. As honest as she could afford to be without giving the poor tod a stroke.

“Dad...” Val asked, her once defiant tone falling away into something softer and more genuine. “I'm sorry.”

Cameron blinked at Val for a moment, his frown curling into a cautiously small smile.

“I'm sorry I put you through all that.” Val said somberly. “You and El.” Val shook her head. “I know I'm in the wrong, and I know I shouldn't be complaining but I just...” The vixen let out an exasperated sigh. “I'm just...Everything I was working toward got ruined.” Val choked on her words slightly as she tried to maintain her composure. “I was so close to finishing Red’s restoration and…” Despite her best efforts, the vixen’s voice still cracked slightly. “I'm just having a really hard time dealing with it all...”

“It's okay my little Motorbug.” Cameron cooed softly, placing a paw on the vixen's shoulder. “I understand.” The older fox chuckled. “Believe it or not I was a teen once myself you know.”

Val winced slightly, quirking a brow at the older tod as she tried to imagine her father as anything other than the dowdy old fox she had known all her life. 

Seemingly recognizing the vixen's rather dubious expression only served to get another chuckle out of Cameron's muzzle.

“You may not believe it, but I swear it's true.” Cameron continued, letting out a soft, errant sniffle. “Granted I think the worst argument I ever had with my mother was over spending too much time playing my old Preyga Genesis.” The fox shook his head, patting Val on the shoulder. “But I suppose you and I are in an entirely different boat all things considered.”

The vixen gave her father a nod of uncertainty, her muzzle scrunching up in a clear show of unease. Conflicted voices inside her mind argued with one another. If she brought up Red’s condition now, surely that would make it seem as though her apology was all lip service. But her window was rapidly closing, and without all the loose ends in the conversation wrapped up, it would only lead to yet another awkward blow-up down the road. 

“Something still on your mind Sweetie?” Cameron asked.

Val glanced down at her paws uneasily, taking in a long, slow breath of air as she took a moment to steel her nerves. The vixen focused on her fingers for a moment, bawling them in a matching set of tightened fists and periodically tensing and relaxing her paw muscles as she mustered all the courage she had.

Exhaling, Val unflexed her paws one last time before turning to face her father, her blue irises meeting his despite the voices in her head screaming at her to avert her gaze.

“Dad.” Val started, wincing slightly. “What happened to Red?”

Cameron's emotions were written all over his face as the older tod's warm, concerned features withered into an almost pained, sorrowful expression. The old tod bit his lower lip for a moment before briskly turning his attention away from the vixen. 

Releasing the parking brake, Cameron reached a paw out to the radio, flipping it on once more and fiddling with the dial for a few moments before settling on a music station. His actions left Val bewildered, albeit it for a moment. But the vixen wasn't about to let this go.

“Da-?”

“Hey, Black Vole Sun! You used to love this song didn't you?” The tod barked blithely, reaching his paw out once more and cranking the volume on the song up twice as loud as it was. Turning his attention to the side window, Val watched as her father began scanning the cars passing him by for an opening.

Val let out a tired sigh. In mere seconds, the pair of foxes had managed to entirely switch roles. 

Reaching a paw out, Val quickly shut the radio off before throwing the parking brake back on.

Cameron turned back to his daughter, flashing her a mildly confused, albeit nervous expression.

“Vy, we're going to be late to-.”

“Dad.” The vixen said, her tone firm but gentle. “I want to know what happened to my bike.” The vixen frowned softly. 

“V-Valerie.” Cameron stammered slightly.

“Look, Dad.” The vixen sighed. “I don't expect to be riding him for a while.” Val lolled her head casually. “Even when I get my license back, and the repairs are done, I don't expect you to be all gung ho about letting me head back out on the road anytime soon, and I can accept that.” The vixen admitted with slight hesitance. She didn't exactly want to be mapping out a punishment timeline for her father to work by, but it was a risk she had been willing to take with Red's very existence presumably on the line. 

Val frowned deeply, her eyes widening as she eyed her father, his wince deepening as she spoke.

“But I need to know if my bike is okay.” The vixen whined softly. “I need to know he's safe.”

Cameron seemed slightly flustered, the older tod's uneasy expression only seeming to worsen as he struggled to find his words. Val pleaded with her body language, her shimmering blue eyes wider than they had ever been as she fixed her gaze on his own as it continued to wither. The ‘puppy-dog’ eyes used to be a fairly lethal weapon in her arsenal growing up, but unlike her previous attempts to work the older tod over with them, this heartfelt glare was in earnest.

“Val. I-.” The fox stammered, running a paw through his head fur. “Sweetie, li-.” The fox took a moment, closing his eyes as he let out a tired sigh.

“Look Valerie, I think you need to focus on more important things than some old bike.”

The vixen was left dumbstruck as Cameron stared back at her with a weak smile. Had he just said what she thought he had said? The vixen struggled against the rising mixture of feelings twisting at her insides as she tried to process her father's words, and just how dismissively he had uttered them. 

Cameron's faltering smile quickly began to shrink, the vixen's confusion and hurt presumably written all over her muzzle as a glint of panic began to form behind the older tod's deep green eyes.

“I-I mean with this job you can get legitimate work experience!” The fox stuttered, his tone wavering in uncertainty. “Not only will you make more money than scavenging recyclables in that old junkyard for Mr. Sandersnout, but it's much safer, less intensive, and you can actually use this for a stepping stone on your resume.”

Val opened her muzzle, but the words failed to come. Her father's continued confirmation of her 'cover story' putting her even more on the back paw in terms of forming an actual rebuttal. Pain, annoyance and guilt struggled for dominance inside her as her own lie was being thrown back in her face, all without Cameron being fully aware of it. It would have almost been funny that the Ol' Mam was using it as an excuse to further evade answering her question were it not for the damage the full truth could do to their already strained relationship. She did her best trying to maintain her composure well enough to keep her lie in order without him inadvertently digging any deeper into it while trying to form a response that would set the conversation back on the path to Red's fate.

The only time that had been spent in that junkyard scavenging had been strictly for Red's repairs, and thanks to Sandersnout's lack of knowledge in regards to the true value of some of Red's pricier components, the vixen had managed to snag most of them on the cheap. Although, the only reason she had been able to afford them at all was the cash she had raked in from those early race wins, some of which were high enough on their own to more than likely rival what she could make at Bug Burga over the entire course of her indentured service and then some. A fact that if proudly stated to her father would more than likely give him a coronary on the spot. 

“Greeeaat...” The vixen finally managed to utter, defensive annoyance taking the helm as she feigned her father's cheery take. “I'm sure that with my new job, I'll be back on track to fixing Red in a decade or less!” The vixen flashed her father a wide, mock smile before crossing her arms and slumping down in her seat once more. Val let off a soft huff as her eyes shifted down to the floor of the car. It was a safe rebuttal, albeit one she wasn't entirely proud of.

Cameron shook his head softly, the older tod letting out an irritated huff of his own.

“Valerie.” The fox uttered in a parental tone. “Don't you think there are more important things you should be focusing your life on?” Cameron asked. “You are young. You have your whole life ahead of you to start thinking about.” The older fox continued, gesturing a paw at nothing particular. “ Graduating high school, Going to college or getting a technical degree, getting married, starting a family of your own.”

Val let out a dismissive snort. Cameron's tangent was growing farther and farther away from the topic at paw, and into territory the vixen found to be increasingly uncomfortable. When it came to her plans for the future, freedom was tantamount, and any sort of 'planning' was far too rigid for her taste. Needless to say Val had just about reached her limit in terms of patience.

“Dad!” Val said, fixing her gaze on the older Tod's as her head snapped to face his direction. Her tone was firm, but the emotional well that was building up within had caused the delivery to waiver slightly. “Please, just...” The vixen let out a shuddering sigh in an attempt to calm herself. “Please, just tell me where Red is.”

“Valerie Madison Vulpes.” Cameron once again invoked her full name, his tone growing stern as he kept his gaze fixed on hers. The tod's irises were unsteady from what Val could see, trembling slightly as if they desperately wanted to dart away. 

“You're obsession with that old bike is unhealthy!” The tod rebutted. “Not just mentally, but as you've shown with this little accident, physically!”

The vixen recoiled sharply, the sting of her father's cold excuses so sharp it felt as though he had practically jammed his paw into her chest. Once again, the vixen found herself momentarily silenced by her father's words, her muzzle hanging open in surprise as she struggled for a reply.

She could feel the tears trying to force their way to the surface, and the vixen squinted tightly in an effort to force them down as a turbulent wave of sadness and anger fought for control of her tongue. 

Cameron raised his paw slightly, the older fox seemingly stuck halfway to placing a paw over his muzzle in regret. The same regret that was already evident in his withering expression and drooping ears.

“How...?” Val finally managed, anger starting to get the upper paw on her emotions as she glared back at her father. “How c-can you even say t-that!?” The vixen hissed, causing Cameron to recoil slightly.

“Y-You know that was...” Val's voice faded as she struggled to even bring herself to finish her sentence. “It was her's, Mom's.” the voice in her head whispered silently, but all Val could do was mouth the words.

“And you just...just!” The vixen sneered, her brow furrowing as the fire burning in her chest began to swell. 

“W-what if I-!?” The vixen stammered, she wanted to hurt him now. To make the older tod feel an equal share of the pain she was feeling over his curt dismissal of her feelings. “What if I said that your obsession with what happened to mom after all these years wasn't emotionally healthy!? Huh!?”

Val almost immediately regretted her outburst, the vixen slapping a paw over her muzzle as she watched her father recoil as though he had been belted in the gut. The older tod seemed to mirror her paw movement, covering his muzzle in horror as his deep green eyes quickly glossed over with a film of tears. It was a pitifully sad glare, one that immediately doused the flame that had been stoking within the vixen as she felt herself shrinking in her seat.

Cameron seemed hesitant to lower his paw from his muzzle, and when he finally managed to pull it away even slightly, it seemed to tremble as though the older fox had just seen a ghost.

“T-That's not even cl-'' The fox tried to sound stern, but his words faltered as he tried to stifle an errant sob. Val's gaze drifted back to the floor in pure shame. Her father's abrupt dismissal of Ol' Red may have cut the vixen deep, but retaliating by dredging up the way her father chose to mourn was more akin to plunging a knife deep into his chest and twisting it. She hadn't meant to go that far, but the words had spilled out before she could stop herself.

“You can't com-compare...I...” The tod trembled, another errant sob slipping out of his muzzle as he turned his attention away from her.

“I-I'm sorry...I didn't...” The guilt had returned, now intensified as the vixen stared down at her feet. Her thoughts now flooded with a deluge of depressing and painful questions and admissions. How had everything spiraled out of control so spectacularly? Just mere months ago she had been so certain she had a tight grasp on it all. So confident that she was totally in control of everything in her life. The only real fear the vixen held any sense of concern over was that Ellie's guilt would eventually get the better of her, and she'd end up spilling her guts to Cameron and revealing the vixen's on-going ruse. The admittedly sometimes dangerous street races had felt like little more than a cakewalk compared to keeping the ever complex and growing series of lies straight at the time. 

Yet now, after having reduced the old tod who had raised her to a shuddering, weeping mass slumped against the driver's side door, the vixen found herself yearning to have merely been caught sneaking back into the house, or for Ellie to have come clean on her behalf. In that moment, she would have gladly had the web of lies come crashing down around her if it had meant her father had stayed angry. If he had simply scolded her, and forbade her from riding Red for however many months he desired. She may have been combative about it, surely, but she couldn't imagine things would have gone as far in that scenario as they had tonight. She wouldn't now carry the building fear that she had forever tainted her relationship with her father by way of her thoughtless words.

She had been so short sighted. The vixen had been so focused on Red's repairs she had stopped paying attention to the real risks. Everything she had been working toward for the past two years had been put on ice in the blink of an eye. The vixen found her demeanor shifting between obnoxiously angry and quietly panicked. Angry that she had been so close to finishing Red, and honoring her mother, and terrified that the last real link she had to the lost vixen might end up equally lost. While she managed to bury the fear and anxiety, the emotional trauma and sorrow deep inside didn't go away. It merely festered there, causing her to lash out at her father, at Ellie. Hurting them, and spreading that pain outward with no real explanation, hoisting those feelings on the only mammals who meant anything to her. Was Ol' Red really worth the hurt she had caused, and was still causing to those she loved? What had seemed like a simple answer before, when the stakes seemed so low, felt so much more uncertain now that she had driven her father to this point.

“Dad I'm...” The vixen sniffled, tears finally freely flowing as she warily looked in his direction. Cameron's gaze remained fixed in the direction of the passenger side window, his hunched form shuddering as he seemed to be stifling sobs of his own.

“I didn't mean to say that...I just...” The vixen whimpered softly. “I just...”

Val watched one of her father's ears perk slightly as it tilted toward her.

The vixen’s eyes dropped back to her paws as she rested them on the central control panel of the car, a few of her tears leaving drops of moisture on the hard plastic frame.

“It's all I have to remember her by...” Val sobbed, swabbing her eyes with the hem of her coat.

“W-We were supposed to work on it together...” The vixen sniffled harshly. “She w-was supposed to ride it with me...She promised.” The vixen shook her head softly. “And I can barely remember that much...”

Lifting her head slightly, the vixen could see that her father was now watching her, tears silently streaming down his fur as he listened intently.

“Almost every memory I have of her isn't really mine...” The vixen shuddered slightly. “ It's all just memories from those old home movies of us.” Val shook her head. 

“Mom playing with me on the floor of the living room, giving me a bath, teaching me how to ride my first big wheel, it's all from the DVDs.” She whimpered. “I don't remember them happening, I j-just remember the footage...” Val sniffled sharply, drawing her forearm over her eyes roughly in an attempt to swab away her tears.

“The only really clear memories I h-have w-were...” The vixen's head drooped as she covered her eyes with a paw, doing her best to maintain her composure as she began to shudder. “T-toward the end...”

“Oh Vy...” She heard the older tod coo softly despite his own warbly tearful tone.

Val felt a set of warm paws wrap around her back, pulling her into a tight hug as her father leaned her head onto his shoulder.

“I don't e-even...” The fox uttered, gingerly stroking the back of her head as he spoke. Despite Val's best efforts, her silent tears had begun to soak her father's scarf and ratty tee-shirt. “I'm so sorry...”

“No. I'm supposed to be sorry!” The vixen replied, quickly withdrawing from the older fox's grasp and wiping her sparkling blue eyes again. “I-I'm the one who...I said...!” The vixen shook her head dismissively. “I shouldn't ha-have..!”

Cameron lifted his lenses, pawing at his eyes for a moment before placing the same paw on Val's shoulder, his green eyes fixing on hers as they shimmered with soft tears.

“No.” The tod uttered softly. “I...We...” The older fox sighed. “We both were in the wrong Vy.” Cameron shook his head. “ I-I wasn't considering...I...”

Cameron tilted his head back, the fox eyeing the ceiling of the bark car for a moment as he drew a paw to his forehead.

“I remember what M-” Val heard her father audible gulp as he struggled with her mother's name. “Marian promised.” Cameron admitted, turning his gaze back toward the still tearful vixen as he placed his paw over his muzzle.

The older tod closed his eyes, letting out a melancholy sigh.

“We had pla-” The fox broke into a weak chuckle, a warm smile forming despite his tears. “She had plans for that bike.” 

Placing his paws together, the fox leaned his muzzle into them before continuing.

“She...” Cameron shook his head. “She used to tease me all the time about how she was going to take me for a ride on Red once she finished fixing it up.” The older fox chuckled. “ I would always tell her there was 'no way in hades' I'd ever get on that thing but...” Cameron's warm smile widened enough to show his teeth behind his paws. “Your mother always got me to do what she wanted...” Cameron sniffled sharply. “ She always knew how to win me over.” The older fox let out a wistful sigh. “I would have followed that smile of hers to the end of Animalia and she knew it.” The older tod chuckled warmly.

Val was listening intently, her tears few and far between now as she watched the older fox reminisce about the vixen she barely knew.

“You may find it hard to believe, but your old 'Mam kind of had a reputation for being a stick in the mud.” Cameron admitted sheepishly.

Val let out a soft chuckle, amused despite her tears at her father's rather groundbreaking admission, any hope of keeping from breaking into a smirk was next to impossible.

Cameron rolled his eyes slightly. “Okay...maybe it's not that hard to believe...” The fox chuckled weakly. “But that's why your mother liked to consider herself a professional 'mud-stick' remover.” The fox sighed contentedly. 

Turning to face the windshield, Cameron draped his paws on the steering wheel, his eyes tracing out and upward, presumably into the stars above.

“As soon as you were old enough, you and her were going to work on it together.” The tod sighed. “She told me if I 'thought it was hard enough saying no to her, it would be impossible to say no to both of you flashing me those pleading smiles to come take Ol' Red out for a test drive.’” Cameron chuckled softly. “Her glowing smile, and that gap toothed cookie eating grin of yours, she knew I' d be powerless.” The older tod sighed warmly. “Just as soon as you were done fixing it up...” 

Val watched as her father's warm smile began to wither, his green eyes starting to shimmer once again.

“Even w-when...” The tod choked slightly. “When she first t-took ill, she swore as soon as she g-got be-be-” Cameron raised a paw slightly, biting into one of his knuckles with a fang as he struggled with his words. “We'd all ride Ol' Red as a family...we...”

Cameron glanced back at Val out of the corner of his eye, tears starting to well at the corners once more as he lamely wiped at them with a paw.

“I know how important that bike is to you Vy.” The older fox admitted. “I understand it's probably the biggest connection to Marian that you have and...” Cameron sighed. “I-It's important to me too as much as it terrifies me...” The older tod shook his head dismissively.

“But you need to know that bike is nowhere near as important to me as your life.” Cameron reached out, grasping one of Val's paws in his own. “You are the most precious gift your mother gave me.” The tod whimpered. “You are the last real connection I have to your mother. And I nearly lost you that night.”

Val began to squirm in her seat, tears starting to well once more as she felt the guilt rising in her chest.

“And I'm sorry if it hurts to say it, but if given the choice between you and Red, I'd choose you every time, paws down.” the fox continued, his tone growing seemingly more stoic as he spoke. “Even if it was Marian's, that old bike means nothing to me compared to you and...”

Cameron withdrew his paw, inhaling sharply as he pressed the side of his finger to his lips.

“I-I'm sorry, I'm trying not to get worked up again it's just...” The fox whined, running a paw through his brown head fur nervously.

“I let you repair and ride that thing because you promised me you'd be safe...” The older fox's voice crackled as he tried to maintain some semblance of sternness. “That you would drive safely, and wouldn't take crazy risks an-and...”

Cameron placed his head into his paws momentarily.

“A-And you lied to me again and again. To my face!” The tod lamented.

Val once again found herself shrinking into her seat, her tail now coiling in front of her legs as the guilt continued to build. She could feel a phantom pressure seemingly constricting her chest. As if a pallet of heavy stones were now weighing down on her, and each bitter admission from her father added yet another stone to the growing mound. Her stomach felt as though it had been twisted into several knots, the guilt and shame gnawing and burning at her gut with such intensity that it nearly made her nauseous. Of course it didn't help that she still had a lie or two that her father remained unaware of, and that fact made it all the more easier to simply sit in silence and allow her father to vent despite his reluctance to get 'worked up again'. It was clear he had been holding all of this in for quite some time, and it clearly hurt him all the more to continue spilling it. But much like her, she imagined now that his muzzle was open he wouldn't be able to stop until his emotions had been all aired out.

“And Ellie too!” Cameron continued, slapping a paw against the steering wheel before glancing back to his daughter. “You made her cry Vy.”

That one made the vixen flinch, the feeling of an additional phantom stone being added to the press weighing down on her withering form causing her to shrink away even more. Sure, she had already known that Ellie had shed quite a few tears thanks to the lies, and because of Val's accident, something the vixen felt deeply guilty for already. But being reminded of it now forced the images of Ellie's tears through her mind in quick succession, and consequently added to her shame with all the force of a kick to the stomach. Suddenly Bug Burga didn't feel like nearly enough of a fitting punishment for the crimes she had committed against those mammals who had been foolish enough to care about her.

Cameron let out a terse sigh, the fox lifting his lenses and swabbing at his tears with a forearm.

“I already lost your Mother, and I can live with losing that bike...but...” Cameron turned to face Val, his shimmering blue eyes puffy with tears.

“I couldn't bear the thought of losing you.” The older tod whimpered, his voice cracking as he spoke. 

Looking up into her father's own tearful eyes, Val offered a meek nod, the vixen sniffling sharply as she pawed at her nose. She wanted to hug the tod, but a part of her felt almost much too ashamed to, the guilt from the remaining overruling the urge.

Cameron let out a rather somber sigh, his body seemingly trembling with his exhale as he wearily turned his attention to the road. For a moment his tearful green eyes found Val's as he glanced over his shoulder. The tod was silent, simply staring back at his daughter, but eventually he opened his muzzle slightly. It was clear he wanted to say something, but the words seemed to fail him as his muzzle softly closed and opened a few times in silence before he seemingly gave up, and shifted his attention back to the passenger side window.

The fox shook his head. “We're going to be late at this rate...” The older fox pressed a paw to his temple. “ I wouldn't want to get you in worse trouble because I picked a bad time to...”

Cameron sighed, releasing the handbrake. His attention now keenly on the traffic in search of an opening, the older tod threw the car into gear.

“CRUNCH!” Val felt herself lurch forward slightly before coming to a sharp, abrupt stop. The vixen blinked rapidly for a moment, perking up in her seat and glancing around out of the various windows as she tried to make sense of just what had happened. It only took a moment for the vixen to spy the lamp post that was now tightly pressed up against the rear bumper of the car.

Val glanced down at the gear shift momentarily, the indicator light glowing under the solid 'R' symbol telling her all she needed to know as she shifted her gaze back up toward her father. The older tod was seated up straight and alert, his ears standing sharply on end as he clutched at his chest with a tightly gripped paw. 

“Dad? Are you ok-?”

“I'm fine!” Cameron barked awkwardly in reply. The foxes ears slowly began to droop as he released his grip on his shirt.

“F-Fine, I'm fine...Did I?” The fox took a moment to peek over his shoulder, glancing at the light post for a moment before glancing over to Val with concern.

“Are you alright?” Cameron asked.

Val offered a strained smile, the guilt and unease still tugging at her insides despite the fender bender. “I'm fine Dad.”

The older tod let out a sigh of relief, his ears sagging as he relaxed his stance and slumped slightly against the steering wheel.

“M-Must of...reverse...heh...” The fox's words were muttered and garbled. “Wrong gear.” He clarified with a weak smile. Switching the car off, the fox let out an exasperated sigh. 

“So much for not getting worked up...” The fox muttered quietly as he unhooked his seat-belt. “Or getting there on time...” He added, before slipping out of the car to survey the damage.

The little 'fender bender' added a few extra minutes to the trip, something Val wasn't sure as to whether she was grateful for or not. The interior of the car remained silent while she watched her father looking over the damage to his car, and while she wasn't one for lip reading, it wasn't hard to figure out what her father was saying when coupled with rather dramatic gestures. But the heavy emotional weight of the previous conversation still hung heavily in the now silent space, and it only felt more oppressive and weighty once the trip to the Bug Burga had continued in mutual silence. For the bulk of the ride, the vixen simply stewed in the guilt and sadness that had lodged itself beneath her breastbone. Her father's words doing well to periodically twist the ball of pain in her chest as they played over and over again in her head. About how she had hurt Ellie, about how she had hurt him. It had dulled the thoughts and fears of Red to little more than a whisper in the back of her mind. 

When the vixen managed to bring herself to glance her father's way, she found the tod's gaze fixed on the road ahead. His sharp green eyes still tinged with a hint of moisture despite his rather forced looking stoic expression. She felt compelled to say something. Another apology? Maybe a joke? Anything to break the deafening silence and tension that seemed to proliferate the cab. But the longer the silence dragged on, the less appropriate it felt to say anything at all. Each possible utterance or response feeling increasingly inappropriate or inept and forcing the vixen's gaze back to the floor of the car in shame. Val defaulting to halfheartedly studying the intricate design of the mass produced floor mat until she felt the smart car slow to a full stop, and the sound of the engine cut away.

Warily glancing up at her surroundings, Val could see the Bug Burga restaurant now stood in full view. Its outrageously bright yellow and green neon lights screaming up into the night sky, blotting out any trace of star light from being visible due to the intensity. Garish green palm leaves and jungle swags that had been worked into the architecture bobbed lightly in the breeze. It was the only real movement around the restaurant Val could see, as a more broad inspection showed that despite how well lit the place was, there didn't seem to be a soul in or around the fast food chain save for her and her father. It made the 'Open 24 hours' sign affixed to the larger logo standee facing the road seem almost ironic to such a point that it nearly drove the vixen to do a double take just to make sure it was actually affiliated with the empty looking restaurant, and not just an orphaned advertisement.

But the state of the Bug Burga hadn't been enough to distract from the silence that continued to linger in the air of the car. Aside from pulling into a space and parking, her father had remained as silent as he had on the remainder of the drive. Sheepishly glancing at the older tod, she found him simply leaning over the steering wheel, his gaze directed upward into the inky blackness of the starless night. 

The tod remained silent, seemingly lost in thought for a few moments before surprising the vixen by being the first to break the silence.

“Th-that was quite a jolt wasn't it?” Cameron finally uttered, letting out a nervous chuckle.

Val wasn't sure how to respond, the vixen's gaze shifting to various random points on the floor as she tried to work out a reply.

“H-How bad was the damage?” The vixen asked meekly.

Cameron shook his head. “It's nothing...” The fox sighed. “I'll just need to have the dent pulled out, and the paint touched up, but she'll live.” 

“I...” Val muttered, glancing down at her paws nervously for a moment. “I mean, I could fix that.”

Cameron chuckled, shaking his head softly. “I'm sure you could my little Motorbug.”

The older fox turned his glance in the direction of his daughter, his soft green eyes still seeming to glisten with moisture. Val couldn't help but shrink a bit more under his gaze. 

Cameron shook his head slightly, lifting his lenses in order to wipe at the lingering sheen of wetness with his forearm before allowing them to settle back on his snout. Taking a moment to better straighten the lenses, the fox let out a soft, tired sigh.

“I picked up Red from the scrap yard a few days after you first ended up in the hospital, Sweetie.” The fox admitted, some sense of reluctance lacing his tone. “Red's been sitting safe and sound in the garage since then, although he is a little worse for wear...”

Val blinked rapidly in shock, her ears standing up sharply as the ball of guilt that had been squeezing her chest suddenly evaporated, the space now quickly occupied by a deluge of overwhelming joy. The vixen was beaming in moments.

“Really!?” The vixen spat, her tail wagging excitedly as she watched her father expectantly. “Are you serious!?”

Cameron's nervous smile was slowly overtaken by a warmer, toothy grin.

The older fox chuckled. “Why do you think I've been parking in the driveway for the last six weeks?” 

“Why didn't you tell me!?” The vixen snapped back, more surprised than upset.

Cameron shook his head. “I wanted you to actually spend time 'recovering'.” The tod chuckled. “If you had known Red was sitting in our garage, you would have been down there tinkering with that thing no matter what I said.”

Tears were forming in the vixen's eyes once more, and Val did the best she could to stifle her sobbing with laughter as she gave her Ol' Mam a soft punch in the shoulder. It was all she could do to keep from leaping out of her seat and hugging him.

“You're such a jerk!” The vixen tried to sound serious between her fits of joyful laughter, however, the tone failed to come across. “You lied!”

Cameron recoiled from the playful slug slightly, the tod rubbing his shoulder as he let out a soft chuckle. “I wouldn't put a simple omission on the same level of a full blown lie.” The fox shrugged, flashing his daughter a smug smirk. “ I mean, I just didn't mention it.” The fox held up a claw, bobbing his eyebrows playfully. “Perhaps swearing Ellie to secrecy as well could qualify as a lie, but...” The fox shrugged.

Val drew back in shock. It was a momentary reaction, quickly replaced by a strange mixture of amusement and mirthful outrage. 

“You made Ellie lie too?!” Val practically squealed. “You monster!” The vixen laughed.

Cameron crossed his arms, throwing the vixen a dubious glare.

“Well isn't that the pot calling the kettle black?” The fox tutted. “I mean you lied to me, it was only fair.”

Val was practically giggling. “Y-you aren't supposed to lie! Y-You're-!”

“Old?” Cameron interjected dully. “Lame? uncool?” The fox retorted with a chuckle. “An older tod like myself deserves to have some secrets to himself, especially if I have to keep up with a rascal like you.”

Both foxes were now practically laughing so hard that each cackle was a mixture of mirth and a struggle for breath. It was a fit that took several moments for the pair to come down from, Val taking longer to compose herself than the older tod as she did her best to chase away her lingering giggles. After such a weighty and painful discussion it felt so good to laugh, but it made Val feel even better to see her father laughing just as hard. And while it hadn't completely assuaged her guilty conscience, it had easily muted the lingering sting still fluttering within her chest. But despite the levity of the moment, the vixen found herself mildly perplexed by her father's actions. After all, he had always been a helicopter parent, especially where Red was concerned. And now, when the golden opportunity had presented itself to rid himself of that particular worry, he had chosen to save the bike anyway. Was it purely because it was connected to Marian in some way? Despite being torn over the possibility of ruining the moment, the vixen felt compelled to press the issue.

“B-But Dad...?” Val murmured, still trying to stifle the urge to titter. “Wh-What...?”The vixen took a deep breath, exhaling with a bit of a shudder as she eyed her father with a more serious glance. “I mean...why?”

Cameron tilted his head slightly, his ears skewing in slight confusion.

“Why what?” Cameron replied.

Val frowned slightly, the vixen glancing down at her paws as she flexed her fingers uneasily.

“I-I mean...you could have...” Val muttered. “I mean, I know it was Mom's too but...”

Cameron held up a paw, stopping the vixen mid-sentence.

“Valerie...” The older tod started. “Even if that bike had nothing to do with your mother, do you really think I would have just allowed it to be scrapped?” The fox shook his head softly before reaching a paw out and grasping one of Val's own. Cameron gave her paw an affectionate squeeze, his green eyes fixing on hers as he flashed her a warm smile.

“There was no way I wouldn't protect something that meant so much to you as long as it was within my power to do so.” The fox's smirk widened, showing off a rather snarky display of teeth. “Come now, you didn't think your old 'Mam could be that heartless did you?”

Val smiled widely, earning a chuckle from the older fox.

“Besides, I know well enough by now that trying to persuade you to give up cycling is a fool's errand. ” Cameron chuckled. “You are just as stubborn as your mother, and I know from experience it's useless to fight the current.”

The vixen chuckled softly, swabbing away her lingering tears with a paw.

“T-thanks Dad.”

Cameron released his grip on Val's paw as he raised it up to her face, the older fox affectionately patting her cheek. Cameron offered her a smirk.

“There's that cookie-eating grin I love to see.” The tod replied with a chuckle. “Though those gaps have filled in pretty well.”

Val laughed, pushing her father's paw away.

“Dad!” The vixen protested, readying another playful punch in the direction of her father's shoulder. 

“Alright, alright.” The older tod chuckled, raising his paws defensively and scooching away from the vixen's raised fist. “I think one of those was enough. You don't want me calling elder abuse do you?”

Val rolled her eyes as she giggled, lowering her paw. “Being a little over dramatic Dad?” The vixen flashed her father a half lidded stare. “You aren't that old.”

“Well you had to get that snark from someone.” The tod replied, flashing his daughter a cheeky grin. Once again, the vixen found her eyes rolling. “You aren't just your mother's kit.”

Shifting himself toward the driver's side door, the older tod began reaching to unbuckle his seat-belt. “Well, we've dawdled enough as it is.” The tod remarked, prying his door open with his other paw as the seat-belt released it's grip. “We're already late, and I don't want those nice wolves or the ZPD to think we flaked on them.” With little more than a soft grunt, Cameron was out of the car, leaving Val to quickly follow suit. Popping open her own door, the vixen released her seat belt and stepped out of the Bark Car, giving the door a hearty slam.

“By nice, you meant dumb right?” Val remarked with a chuckle.

Cameron slammed his own door shut with considerably less force. Now it was the older fox's turn to roll his eyes.

“Vy, you know I've taught you better than that.” The tod remarked. “You would think with all the stereotyping we have to deal with, you'd be a little more...considerate?” Cameron added as he rounded the front of the Bark car, coming to a stop as he turned to face the restaurant.

Val let out a scoff as she followed her father's lead, the slightly shorter vixen taking a stand next to the older tod as they stared ahead to the looming neon monstrosity before them. The vixen crossed her arms, letting out a derisive snort.

“Pretty sure foxes aren't compelled to start yipping when they hear another fox do it.” The vixen chuckled. “Hell, anyone can impersonate a howl and you're liable to set a nearby wolf off.” 

Cameron flashed his daughter a dull, half lidded glance.

“While that...” The fox lingered, scratching the back of his head uncomfortably. “May be true, I only ask that you try not to make enemies out of the only mammals that were willing to help us.”

Val rolled her eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh.

“I'll try...” The vixen muttered.

The vixen felt a paw gingerly land on her shoulder, giving it an affectionate pat.

“That's my girl.” The older fox chuckled softly. “You are well on your road to getting Red back.”

That remark made the vixen's ears stand up sharply, Val turning to her father and flashing him a rather confused glance.

“Wait, you mean you aren't giving him back to me?” The vixen muttered.

Cameron smirked. “What did you think just because I told you where that bike was meant I was just going to give him back to you, no strings attached?”

Val's ears sagged sharply. Of course it couldn't have been that simple. She should have expected that getting visitation rights to her prized bike wouldn't come without some sort of conditions. The vixen let out an exasperated sigh.

“Okay...” Val muttered. “What do I have to do?”

Her father held up two fingers.

“Just two things.” Cameron replied with a smirk. 

“The first is simple.” The older tod continued. “I want a promise that from now on you will listen to me and actually drive safely when you go out.” Cameron said, tightening his grip on the vixen's shoulder slightly in a clear attempt to underline how important this point was to him. “And from now on I don't want anymore 'sneaking out'. Going forward I want you to tell me whenever you plan on going out, and where.”

“Oh just those two things?” The vixen's grin widened slightly, revealing the barest hint of her fangs. “I'm fine with that.”

Cameron shook his head before placing a finger to the vixen's nose and playfully booping her snout, causing Val to retract slightly.

“Please don't sass me while I'm trying to extend an olive branch.” The older fox chuckled, earning a wry grin from his daughter.

“Alright, alright...” The vixen relented. “I promise I will drive safely from now on...” The vixen trailed off, earning an eyebrow quirk from her father.

“And?” Cameron added expectantly, his tone rising as he glared at the vixen.

Val rolled her eyes, letting out another exasperated sigh. “And I promise I'll keep you in the loop when I go out riding...” The vixen added, doing her best to remain appearing annoyed despite the urge to chuckle at her father's antics. 

“If I ever get back to riding that is...” The vixen added, her ears sagging slightly.

Cameron chuckled softly. “Now, now, Red may be busted up but it's nothing my talented little Motorbug couldn't solve in snap.”

Val tried to suppress the warm smile now tugging at her muzzle due to her father's unexpected compliment.

“W-well, I guess as somewhat of a fixer yourself, you'd know.” The vixen said, funneling that desire to smile into more of a sarcastic grin.

Cameron rolled his eyes, his muzzle scrunching up slightly in clear discomfort. “Hey, I thought I said no sass.” The older tod tutted. “Besides, you know that kind of work ended with my black jackal days.”

Val chuckled. “Okay, okay...”

The older tod smiled broadly, releasing his grip on Val's shoulder in order to pat it appreciatively.

“So...” Val murmured cautiously. “If telling you where I'm going wasn't the second thing...er....what was?” The vixen added in an uneasy tone.

“Ah yes.” Cameron said, retracted his paw and pressed his fingers together. “ For my second condition...” The fox continued in a mock authoritative tone, a mirthful smile seemingly fighting to replace his pretend stoicism. It didn't take long for the fox to drop the act, the older tod placing his paw back on the vixen's shoulder as he offered her a warm smile.

“I only ask that you give your Ol' 'Mam just the first few weeks of driving you out to and from your new job...” The tod's smile widened slightly, his shimmering blue eyes fixing on Val's own as he spoke. “ I know it may be a little selfish on my part, but...it would help put me a little more at ease after everything that's happened.”

Val chuckled softly, averting her gaze slightly in an effort to stifle the desire to tear up at her father's earnest request.

“Okay, okay...” Val chuckled weakly. “I can do that.” 

“You don't mind that?” Cameron asked.

“I-...” The vixen murmured shyly. “I mean, I wouldn't completely hate it.”

Cameron's smile broadened. Unlike Val, the older fox hadn't made any effort to force down the tears now forming in the corner of his eyes.

“Hug on it?” The older fox replied.

Val rolled her eyes, doing her best to suppress the urge to smile as she tried to keep up the appearance of being too cool to hug. The vixen crossed her arms once more, averting her gaze slightly. However, this did little to deter her father. Instead, Cameron spread his arms out wide, gesturing with his paws for the vixen to 'bring it in'.

“Oh come on now, you are never too old to hug your Ol' 'Mam.” The older tod replied.

Val winced slightly, the urge to giggle pushing up against her rather forced grimace as she continued her standoffish act.

Cameron flashed her a dull glare.

“I'm warning you right now, I am absolutely willing to stand here all night unless I get that hug.” The older fox chuckled. “I will even follow you around all shift if I have to.”

Despite letting out an exaggerated and irritated sigh, the vixen was smiling as she gave in to her father's demands. Val wrapped her paws around the slightly taller fox, burying her head into his neck as she tried to hide her smile. It didn't take very long for Cameron to return the hug, his vice like squeeze while nearly crushing to the vixen, was something she knew since she was a kit was just her father putting all the love he could into the gesture. Of course, not to be out done, Val squeezed back as best as she could. But like the many times before, the vixen seemed to be unable to match her father's masterful hugging prowess.

“I love you Dad.” Val murmured into the tod's neck fur.

“I love you too, my little Motorbug.” Cameron replied, planting a soft kiss on the top of her head.

Although it was something Val would have never admitted out loud, getting a hug from her father was something that always made her feel better. Despite how much she would protest, especially in public, the gesture still carried with it the same sense of comfort and safety it had when she was little more than a kit. But while there was a part of her that did want to linger in her father's affection after the bulk of the night had been spent dredging up painful memories, something in her father's terms of conditions for Red's release was prying at the back of her mind. Something that conflicted with the punishments that had supposedly been laid down by the ZPD.

Val was first to break the hug, drawing back quickly from the older tod as a confused expression crawled across her muzzle.

“Wait...” Val uttered, quirking a curious brow at the brown haired tod. “What did you mean by 'let me drive you to work for a few weeks?'” The vixen queried, her ears loping at differing angles. “I thought the ZPD said you had to drive me all summer?” The vixen concluded, squinting at the older fox suspiciously.

Cameron offered a meek smile, bracing the back of his neck with a paw. He shifted his gaze quickly, his guilty eyes trying to settle on anything but Val's accusing glare.

“Okay...” The tod admitted sheepishly. “That might not have been a mandatory requirement...” The fox glanced up and away from his daughter uncomfortably. “So much as it was a way for me to make sure you got to work and back safely...”

Val did her best to stifle a laugh despite rolling her eyes, the vixen crossing her arms as she lowered a dubious gaze at the old tod. “It's kitnergarden all over again.” The vixen mused. 

“Well I wouldn't say that.” Cameron was quick to reply. “Unlike kitnergarden, I promise I won't spend the entire day in there with you.” The tod admitted. “And hey, this kitnergarden pays you.”

Val chuckled, uncertain for a moment whether her father was making a joke or actually swearing he wouldn't spend her entire shift at this place shadowing her every move. “Well, I suppose that is progress...”

The older tod offered her a rather cheesy smile in return.

With a sigh, Val turned her attention back to the eerily quiet Bug Burga, its neon glare still as intense as ever. The vixen casually brushed her coif of head fur out of her eye, only for it to immediately slip back into place the moment she let go.

“Well, I guess it's time to face the music.” The vixen muttered. Glancing over her shoulder at her father, the vixen gave the older tod a slight eye roll. “I don't want to make a habit out of being late, right?”

Cameron nodded, the tod wearing a pleased expression.

“That'a girl.” He replied.

With a final, curt nod, the vixen began her first reluctant steps toward the establishment. Each plodding, dragging of her padfalls drawing her ever closer to the empty neon jungle that would house her for the next eight hours. 

“Have a good night on you first shift Sweetie!” Cameron called out to her as he began making his way back to his car. “And remember if anything goes wrong I'm just a phone call away, okay!?”

“Okay!” Val replied dismissively, stopping shy of the double doors that made up the entrance to the Bug Burga. Val rested a paw on the glass pane, drawing it open and catching it with her other paw.

“And Vy!” Her father called, drawing the vixen's attention once more. Looking out over the car park, Val could see her father leaning out of the passenger side of his car, the tod using an arm to support himself on the open driver's side door's rolled down window bay as a crutch.

“Yeah?” Val asked.

“Please try to smile even if it hurts to deal with bad customers, okay?” The tod asked, flashing the vixen a pleading smirk. “Remember that you can always vent to me or Ellie later when you get done with your shift.”

Val rolled her eyes, flashing her father a rather sly smirk. “No promises.” The vixen replied with a chuckled.

Cameron shook his head, chuckling softly to himself.

“No Promises.” The tod uttered as he slipped into the driver's seat, slamming the door as he did so.


	3. The Wheels Keep On Turning

Passing through the doors of the Bug Burga, nearly all of the vixen's senses were assaulted by the atmosphere of the restaurant. The halogen lighting was no more forgiving on her sensitive blue eyes than the garish neon treatment outside, and the scent of overcooked bug chips and grease made her recently recovered stomach drop into a nausea relapse. It was the kind of stink she knew that after eight hours of being held hostage by it, would seep into her clothes and happily follow her home. Val held a paw up to the light as she struggled to squint through the glare and get a better view of her surroundings. 

The interior of the restaurant was pretty much what she had expected. The familiar orange and red color scheme with faux ferns and jungle themed vegetation adding a splash of green to the rather disgusting visual palette on display. It did little to distract away from the fact that the stump table seating and wood slab tables were obviously fiberglass. Yep, it was definitely a Bug Burga. Granted it wasn't the same chain she had been to a few times as a kit, and the style had changed slightly over the years, but otherwise it was practically like stepping back in time. Why her Mom always preferred this place over Quesodillo's like Val and her father did was beyond her.

“Well, it's about time you showed up.” A voice barked, drawing Val's attention away from the cheap decor. The loud, yet grumbly statement had come from a particularly dowdy looking billy goat dressed in a red and yellow striped uniform that blended in with the decor. One of the first things Val noticed about the billy, aside from the minefield of acne spread across the bridge of his muzzle, was the fact he seemed to be a horn short of a pair. On one side of his head, the yellow-eyed goat had a tall, finely curved horn, while on the adjacent side, the billy had what appeared to be a stump covered with a wad of paper towels that were held on with several brightly colored rubber bands.

He was seated at a booth directly within the vixen's line of sight, his brow furrowing slightly as he seemingly appraised her.

“I was afraid that I had another flake on my hooves.” The goat chuckled sarcastically. “You wouldn't be the first.”

A rather smug smile crawled across the vixen's muzzle. She was going to have a lot of fun with this dork.

“Do I still have the option?” The vixen remarked with a grin. “ Maybe those other guys were on to something?”

The goat let out a scoff. “Not unless you're looking to trade up for a stay in Juvie.” He replied.

Val lolled her head from side to side, furrowing her brow to make it look as though she were seriously weighing her options. However, the goat didn't seem keen on letting her linger on the idea for too long. 

The drab goat gestured her over with a brisk hoof.

“Please, have a seat.” The billy gestured to the seat across from him.

With a lame shrug, Val ambled over to the booth, taking a particularly lazy squat on the hard and uncomfortable seating. Val draped an arm across the upper ledge of the booth, lolling her head back slightly as she tried to make herself as comfortable as possible.

“Alright, so you are...” The goat pulled up a clip board, taking a few moments to flip through the pages. “Valerie Vulpes, correct?”

Val lolled her head to one side lazily, her eyes drifting to one of the cut out photos of a Bug Burga and Cicada chips hung from the ceiling with fishing line. The vixen watched as the glossy image of greasy food continued a slow rotation, the cheap cardboard placard carried by the weak current of the restaurant's central air conditioning.

“Am I?” Val asked with a chuckle. “Who wants to know?”

The goat let out a tired grumble. “Look, I just need a confirmation for legal reasons, alright?”

“I am...” The vixen replied dully. 

The goat quickly scribbled something on to the page he had flipped to.

“Okay, Valerie Vulpes, Welcome to-”

“Val.” The vixen was quick to cut him off. “My Ol' Mam's the only one who is allowed to use my full name. It's weird if anyone else says it.”

The goat placed a hoof to his temple, massaging it lightly.

“ Okay Val.” The goat continued. “ Well, let me be the first to extend a warm, Bug Burga family welcome to you.”

“Warm eh?” The vixen chuckled. “ Reminds me more of one of those 'warm family welcomes' they give out in the Burrows.” Val flashed a rather snarky smirk. “Y'know, the kind said with a forced smile while the barrel of a shotgun is pressed into your back?”

“My name is Gustav Hornsley.” The billy continued, seemingly choosing to ignore Val's comment on southern hospitality. “I'm the assistant manager, although at this point I'm basically acting on the Manager's behalf for all of our franchises decisions.”

“Right...” Val nodded absently, the vixen only sort of half listening.

“I take it you've already been given a run down of exactly which days you'll be working and your hours so long as this little arrangement is in place?” Gus asked, quirking a brow.

“Graveyard Shift, Thursday to Sunday.” Val stated grimly. “All Summer, or until this place forces my spirit from this mortal coil, whichever comes first.”

Gus nodded. “Ten PM to Six AM.” The goat uttered. “Of course, if you should decide you'd like to stay on the Bug Burga team after your civil service debt is up, as long as you perform to expectations I will be more than happy to keep this arrangement in place.” Gus offered a rather meek, hopeful smirk. “ I'd even be willing to discuss adding a few day shifts on if you would like.”

Val chuckled, shaking her head dismissively. “No way dude.” The vixen replied. “As soon as I'm square with the ZPD, I'm gonesville.”

Gus let out a rather tired sounding sigh. “Of course...” The billy lamented. “Again, you wouldn't be the first...”

The vixen grinned. “Well, what kind of mammal in their right mind would willingly want to work the night shift at some fast food joint?” Val replied bluntly. “I figure even most nocturnal mammals would have better things to do with their time.”

The billy furrowed his brow, letting out a soft huff. “ You know, it's actually relatively easy work compared to the day shift..” Gus replied. “I'm basically paying you to baby sit this place and fill the hoof full of orders that come in.”

Val crossed her arms, eyeing the goat suspiciously.

“So why don't you do it?” The vixen asked.

Gus let out a snort. “Because I have...obligations that won't allow me to take on those extra days on top of managing a good chunk of the day shifts.”

“Ah, see!” The vixen exclaimed, flashing the billy a wide grin. “Even you have better things to do.”

Gus let out an exasperated sigh. “Look, regardless of what you think, I need this position filled for however long I can keep it filled.” The goat muttered. “Corporate says we have to be open twenty-four hours even if barely anyone shows up!” Gus snorted. “Honestly, you should be grateful, if it wasn't for the fact that this position existed you'd be looking at six months in juvie easy.” Gus snapped, placing his hoof to his temple once more as his nostrils flared in annoyance. “No amount of pleading from the hounds would have magically made a position available.”

Val quirked a curious brow. “Hounds?”

“Your co-worker.” The goat replied. “Well he's one of them anyway.” Gus continued, stabbing a single finger in the air. “A mammal I'll have you know willingly took the night shift position.”

Val let out a slight scoff. “Must be a real special kind of mammal...” The vixen replied mockingly.

The goat let out a loud, irritated huff. “Watch what you say about my fr-!”

“Gus?” The vixen's ears perked at the sound of a voice coming from somewhere deeper within the bowels of the restaurant. “Everythin' alright out there?”

Turning his attention in the direction of the counter, the goat placed a hoof aside his muzzle as he yelled a reply. “I'm fine Vern!” Gus replied, his suddenly pleasant tone sounding rather forced. “Just dealing with the new hire!”

The sound of sharp metal clattering caused the vixen to wince as she watched the seemingly vacant kitchen for the source of the rather deep, gravely voice.

“Time fer me to come out there and take the reins?” The voice replied, with a surprisingly thick drawl. It was an accent that did no favors for the mammal Val already pegged as being touched in the head for choosing to work the night shift. 'This goat must have been really desperate to fill this shift.' The vixen thought to herself.

Gus sighed. “You may as well, I'm about done here...” The goat called back. “In more ways than one.” Gus muttered quietly, glaring the vixen's way.

Val offered him a lopsided smile, pleased that she had managed to get under the goat's pelt so quickly.

“I'm just gettin' some more cicada chips outta the back!” The rural sounding dullard called back. “I'll be out in two shakes of a lamb's tail!”

Gus let out another sigh, bringing his hooves together and interlocking his fingers as he glanced back at the vixen, his yellow eyes sharpening their gaze on her as he visibly struggled to force a smile to his face.

“So...” The goat spoke, continuing his forced pleasantries. “Before I hand you off to your co-worker for training, do you have any additional questions about the position?” Gus asked.

Val offered the billy a wry smirk, her eyes gleaming as the fixed on the clump of paper towels wrapped around his rather stunted horn.

“So what's with your horn?” The vixen asked bluntly. “You lose a fight or something?”

Gus' forced smile immediately faded, the billy recoiling slightly in surprise.

“W-what?!” The billy spat back.

“I mean I can't see you winning a fight so...” The vixen said with a smug smirk. “Or did you get it stuck in something and it snapped off?”

“It's a congenital condition!” Gus replied with an irritated huff.

Val scrunched her muzzle in slight confusion, her ears loping at different angles as she stared blankly back at Gus. 

The goat let out a tired sigh. “A birth defect?” The goat continued, flashing the vixen a dull glare. “Surely you know what those are?”

Val let out an irritated huff. “Of course I do.” The vixen replied confidently, despite having never heard the word 'congenital' before. “So...you got like a conjoined twin under there or...?”

The goat let out an annoyed sigh.

“Blood doesn't flow into my horn properly...” Gus explained. “So it can only grow about this high...” the billy continued, gesturing a hoof near the level where his stump of a horn abruptly ended. “Before it gets all flakey and crumbles.”

Val nodded dumbly, pretending she fully understood the billy's admission.

“So...what's with the kludge job?” The vixen asked, gesturing to the horn in question. 

“The what?” Gus asked.

The vixen rolled her eyes. “The paper towels and rubber bands?” Val replied. “It's not bleeding is it?”

Gus winced slightly as he raised his hooves up to the stump, protectively shielding it as he seemed to shrink in his seat to some degree.

“This 'kludge' as you called it is...” The billy shifted uncomfortably. “It's to keep the flakes of dead horn from ending up everywhere...” Gus muttered uncomfortably. “And..to keep the...” His voice grew lower in tenor, the billy growing increasingly visibly embarrassed of his affliction. “To keep the bugs out.”

Val grinned mischievously at the billy.

“Bugs huh?” the vixen chuckled. “I'd think that'd be a plus working here wouldn't it? I mean, it could probably save some money on ordering bug meat when you could supply it yourself.”

Gus huffed in annoyance despite a slight blush forming on his muzzle. It was clear the vixen had found a sore spot that would provide her hours and hours of material over the next few months.

“Do you want to go to juvie or not!?” Gus replied angrily, the goat now cradling his damaged horn. “Because I'm this close to just tearing up your application an-!”

“Woah, easy there Gus...” The drawl laden voice had suddenly returned, louder now. It quickly drew the vixen's attention away from torturing her presumptive boss and back in the direction of the kitchen just in time to watch a rather large, grey form finish hopping over over the counter and begin to make his way toward the pair of mammals.

Val did her best to keep her muzzle from opening slightly as the large canine approached them. It was a wolf, that much was obvious. The vixen could only surmise it had been one of the wolves from her rather hazy hospital memories as she slipped in and out of consciousness. However, she hadn't exactly remembered any of them being as big as this one was. The large, grey and cream colored mammal easily towered over both her and the goat she was seated across from. A rough estimate told her he had to have at least two feet over her, which wasn't far above average for wolves, but something about his body language made him seem far larger than he was. Yet despite his rather large, off putting aura, the wolf bore a wide, goofy grin as he regarded the seated mammals. His deep green eyes gleaming with a sort of naive excitement. 

“I'm sure she's just curious is all...” The wolf added in a rather upbeat tone. “Ain't exactly deservin' of issuin' walkin' papers over it.”

Gus furrowed his brow, his cheeks puffing slightly.

“You didn't hear the lead up to it.” The goat grumbled. 

The sudden appearance of the large wolf had thrown the vixen off for a moment, but it had passed quickly as Val easily shifted back into her previously aloof and mischievous self.

“This guy's my co-worker?” The vixen asked.

“Oh, yes.” Gus replied, turning his attention back to the vixen seated across from him. “Val I'd like you to meet Vernon Hunter.” The goat said, gesturing casually to the large wolf. “Vernon, I trust you are already familiar with our new hire, Val.”

Vernon extended a paw, the large canine maintaining his beaming smile as he did so.

“Nice to actually meet ya under better circumstances Miss Val.” The wolf replied.

Val gazed at his outstretched paw for a moment, then back up to the wolf's wide friendly smile, squinting as she did so. To her, it was the kind of smile that told her there was nothing going on between those ears of his. The mark of a rube. And his hick accent only confirmed that her appraisal was that much more grounded in reality.

Val rolled her eyes, letting out a sharp exhale that caused the tuft of hair resting gingerly against her muzzle to bounce slightly. Turning her attention back to Gus, the vixen chose to ignore the wolf's gesture.

“Wait, so if you've got this wolf on staff for the shift, then why do you need me?” Val asked, pointing a thumb in Vernon's direction. “Is he just that bad at doing his job? I mean I know he's a wolf but still...”

Out of the corner of her eye, Val could see the wolf's smile wilt, his ears flattening slightly as he reluctantly withdrew his paw.

“You see what I mean.” Gus said to the large wolf, lamely gesturing in Val's direction. However, the billy didn't seem to be looking for a response from Vernon as he quickly turned his gaze back on the vixen.

“Again, it's corporate policy. Not my choice.” Gus responded. “They dictate that two mammals are required to work the night shift at minimum.” the billy continued, stabbing a finger down into the table as if to emphasize his point. 

“If it wasn't for that policy Vern here could more than handle this place himself.” The billy continued. “If anything, having you around is going to be a hindrance.”

“Aw, now Gus.” The wolf objected. “She's just a pup...”

“We’re throwing her a boon here and all she does is quip, jab and jeer!: The goat huffed. “She just insulted you, and you're gonna-?” Gus snapped at the large wolf before his rather passive shrug completely muted the end of the billy's statement. With an annoyed sigh, Gus turned his attention back to vixen.

“Look, I'm not happy with this arrangement either, okay?” Gus admitted frankly, his sharp yellow eyes glaring back at Val's with a hint of contempt. “But beggars can't exactly be choosers.”

Val rolled her eyes. How many times was she going to hear that phrase tonight?

“Fact of the matter is I need two mammals to work the night shift because corporate says I do.” Gus stated bluntly, stabbing the table with a hoof-nail once again. “And aside from Vernon I can't keep an employee to fill that position for more than a month without either switching to the day shift or quitting due to boredom!” 

Val tried to refrain from wincing at the goat's admission. She figured the job would be boring, but to know that it was so dull it repeatedly drove mammals to quit was a worrying thought. 

“Having the position filled for three months guaranteed was too good an opportunity to pass up.” The goat added with a tired sigh. 

“Well that...” The goat continued, throwing a rather irritated looking glare toward the large wolf standing nearby. “And the fact that I could only endure having to listen to not one, but two wolves whine insistently over it until I agreed to take you on for so long before my choice was either to listen to them or sow my ears shut.” Gus hissed. 

Val glanced back at the deformed goat for a moment, the vixen blinking rapidly in confusion before turning her attention back to the large, rural wolf. 

Vernon smiled proudly back at the diminutive goat's glare, appearing completely unfazed by the billy's obvious displeasure. “Love y'all too bud.” The wolf responded with a lopsided grin of his own.

Val's confusion only deepened as the wolf turned his toothy grin back in her direction. Her ears skewing at slightly different angles, she momentarily questioned her initial assessment. Just what was this wolf's game anyway, and why exactly had he gone to bat for her?

However, those thoughts were quick to dissipate as the wolf continued his broad, seemingly genuine smile. Leaving the vixen to simply shrug, letting out a quiet dull sigh.

“Mam' , wolves really are dumb...” The vixen thought to herself.

“Anywho.” The goat abruptly clapped his hooves together, snapping Val back to attention. “I think I've said all I needed to say.” The goat chuckled as he eased out of his seat. 

Rising to stand next to the wolf, Gus seemed barely any larger than he had been sitting down. The goat gestured to his rather large friend, offering Val a rather smugly satisfied smile.

“With that, I leave you in Vernon's capable paws.” The goat chuckled, patting Vernon on the arm as he glanced up at the wolf.

“She's your problem now Sheepdog.” Gus said with a laugh. “Keep her from burning the kitchen down will ya?”

Vernon gave Gus a brisk nod.

“Y'all got it boss.” Vernon replied with a chuckle.

Gus rolled his eyes. “Don’t call me that.” His response only managed to earn another chuckle from the large canine.

Sidling around the large wolf, it wasn't long before the dowdy billy was making hoof tracks for the exit. Val quickly craned her head around to follow him, one last question urgently rising in her mind.

“Hey bug horn! When do I get paid?” Val shouted.

The goat didn't turn around as he opened the double doors, Gus flicking a lame hoof in her direction.

“ Every two weeks Scrapefoot.” The goat replied. “On Fridays.”

Val raised an eyebrow, a small smirk forming on her muzzle. It was impressive to hear the billy pull out the rather antiquated slang of ‘Scrapefoot’, a term both synonymous with fox folklore, as well as the public perception of foxes having a lazy demeanor. Essentially, foxes were believed to ‘drag their feet’ whenever work came calling. 

With that, Gus was out the door. The sound of the lock clicking signifying that Val was now alone with her new co-worker. 

The vixen glanced up at the large wolf, Vernon, seemingly still rather pleased with himself despite the lingering awkward silence that had been left with the goat's hasty retreat. For a moment Val couldn’t help but wonder if the wolf's brain had simply stopped working, leaving him smiling blithely at her while the wind whistled between his ears. But much to her surprise, the wolf eventually broke the silence.

“Uh, so...er...you ready to get started?” Vernon asked, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. 

Val reflected the wolf's previously air-headed looking smile back at him.

“Gosh golly, y'all mean there's work I'm fixin' to do?” Val fired back, trying her paw at a more insulting sounding version of Vernon's drawl. “I just figured we'd just sit here all night waitin' till that goat fella came back! Hyuck!” Val added, biting her lip to expose her teeth in a lopsided, mocking grin.

Vernon chuckled, shaking his head softly.

“Alright, so lucky fer you we already have some fox size uniforms in the back.” The wolf replied, appearing to ignore her carefully crafted impression of him as he pointed a thumb behind the counter.

“I'll get started cleanin' up the tables and gatherin' the trash, and y'all can come out as soon as yer dressed and help.” The wolf continued, turning and making his way back to the counter as he spoke. “And don't think y'all can just hide back there till the works done.” The wolf chuckled. “It don't take more than five minutes er less to slip the uniform on.”

“Y'all gonna come there and get me iffin' I don't sir?” The vixen continued to hem and haw. “That might be grounds fer sexual harassment iffin' you do's!”

The wolf let out another chuckle as he hopped the counter with surprising swiftness.

“After that, I'll run y’all through how to make all the food and stuff. It's real easy.” The wolf continued, nonplussed. Now on the opposite side of the counter, the wolf pulled a large cart of cleaning supplies from beyond the vixen's line of sight. 

“Well I should trust a wolf to know if something's easy, right?” The vixen replied, her laugh withering in the wake of her failed attempts to get a rise out of the large wolf.

Vernon simply shook his head, pulling an empty trash bag free of the cart.

“Go on now.” The wolf added.

Val let out an irritated huff, her large coif of hair dancing across her nose as she slumped in her seat. She knew she had pretty much done everything she could to avoid getting to this point. But now there was nothing left to do but suit up and actually get to work. Eight hours of miserable drudgery lay ahead of her. She could only hope those eight hours would pass quickly, but judging by what Gus had said about just how boring the work was, as well as the wolf’s lack of acknowledgement of her jibes providing zero entertainment for her, she imagined it would feel like an eternity before the sun finally rose and signified the end of her shift. With a defeated sigh, the vixen pushed herself out of the booth, and with a downcast muzzle she began to trudge toward the counter.

She wasn't sure whether she should have been thankful her training seemed to pass by quickly. After cleaning the front of the restaurant, and taking the days trash out to the dumpster, the wolf's teachings on how to make the restaurants rather infamous foodstuffs seemed to fly by. Granted, the fact that most of the recipes involved sticking said food item in boiling grease for two minutes certainly simplified things. And while most of it made Val's stomach turn to cook, at the very least it was nearly impossible to screw up. That said, she made sure her new co-worker wasn't spared from a volley of remarks about the ease of Bug Burga food preparation. Everything from how it suddenly made sense to the vixen how the wolf could so easily master such 'complex' work, to asking him if he had ever tried to pull food out of the fryers with his bare paws because he forgot that oil was 'hot'. But despite her best efforts the wolf continued to laugh off her remarks. Unlike her new manager, it seemed like an impossible task to get under the wolf's pelt. It was disappointing to say the least. After all, if she couldn't entertain herself by tormenting the big dumb wolf who had got her the job, than what was she supposed to do for the rest of her shifts?

As the desire to tease Vernon began to wither due to lack of response, the vixen's mind began to wander to other things about the rather strange wolf. As she watched the rather cheery wolf explain each process with an unflappable sense of optimism, her thoughts increasingly drifted back to what her new manager had said about Vernon in his rather frank breakdown.

“And the fact that I could only endure having to listen to not one, but two wolves whine insistently over it until I agreed to take you on for so long before my choice was either to listen to them or sow my ears shut.”

The phrase replayed over and over in her mind, growing increasingly louder as she struggled to deconstruct it on her own. Why had this wolf fought to keep her out of juvenile hall? There had to be a motive. There was no way it was simply out of the goodness of his heart. But what could he have stood to gain by helping her out? He didn't know her after all. And for all of her snark and wisecracks Val had spent the last half hour lobbing his way, the wolf continued to seem unfazed by them. Not even a single comeback despite the wealth of material about foxes he surely had to know about. His chuckling and rather naive looking smile persisting despite the vixen’s best efforts to get his hackles up. Either he hadn't heard all the nasty rumors about how foxes behaved, didn't care to throw what he had heard back her way, or was simply as dumb as her repitoire of wolf jokes had him pegged to be.

It was a conundrum to say the least, one that gnawed at her more and more as the wolf went over standard procedures until she could no longer resist the urge to touch on the subject.

“And that's how y'all make one of our signature fruit blends.” The wolf concluded, gesturing to the large purple colored drink he now held in his paw. “ O'course this here's the grape flavor, but the only real difference between all of 'em is the syrup y'all use...” The wolf chuckled as he placed a straw in the cup. “Well that, and grape tastes the best.” The large wolf proceeded to sip of the drink, letting out a soft, pleasant sigh.

Val nodded absentmindedly, the vixen now clad in a tacky Bug Burga uniform of her own as she sat on the adjacent stainless steel counter, idly kicking her legs as she half listened to Vernon's instruction. Despite allegedly being sized for foxes, the rather frumpy red and orange attire felt stiff and restrictive against her pelt. Each lazy sway of her legs forced the rather coarse, uncomfortable material to rub up against her fur. It was a mild irritation to be sure, not enough to keep her from moving at all. But the material still managed to make her pelt itch slightly with each movement. They had also somehow managed to make the outfit both too tight in some areas and too loose in others, a remarkable achievement. Had the vixen not read one of the tags on the other spare uniforms to confirm it was made with cotton, she would have been certain they had actually made the things out of burlap. But regardless of what the material actually was, it made the rather garish red and yellow pin striping look more as though it was crudely painted atop the material rather than dyed all the way through. 

Of course, the worst part of the uniform was the rather gaudy undersized diner style hat with the Bug Burga logo emblazoned across one side of it. The vixen threw a leery side eye at the wad of material laying neatly to her side before glancing back at the wolf adjacent her as he took another sip of his drink, his own matching hat hooked onto one of his ears as his tail wagged softly behind him. As if he didn't look like enough of a simpleton already, that dorky hat managed to add a whole 'nother layer to his goofy look. But hey, if he was willing to wear it for both their sakes, the vixen certainly wasn't complaining.

Placing his drink on the nearby counter, the wolf clapped his paws together briskly, drawing Val out of her thoughts.

“So...” The wolf rubbed his paws together. “I'm purty sure that's everythin' I've got to teach y'all.” The wolf shrugged. “O’course I’ll be here anyway to help y’all if you need a refresher on how to make any of that stuff.” The wolf chuckled dully. “Ain’t like I got anywhere else to be after all.”

The vixen watched as the wolf stretched a paw over to the far side of the counter, pulling a dark black satchel closer to him. Giving the bag a ginger pat, the wolf glanced back toward the vixen.

“If I ain’t checkin’ grease traps er’ hosin’ down somethin’, I’ll be sittin’ at one of the tables up front doin’ college work.” The wolf added, gesturing toward the table where Val and Gus had previously been seated at.

The vixen furrowed her brow slightly, a bemused expression crossing her muzzle as her mind struggled with the rather contradictory prospect of a wolf seeking out higher education. She was tempted to comment on it but ultimately decided against it. Considering how well her previous gags had gone over in terms of annoying the wolf, she imagined bringing up his would only serve to get a similar lack of reaction from him.

“And don’t worry about pullin’ me away from it er’ nothin’.” The wolf added, with the same irritatingly warm smile he had been sporting for most of the night. “Some of them menu items can be purty tricky and…”Vernon winced slightly, bracing the back of his neck with a paw. “ Admittedly, masterin’ ‘em can take a little longer fer mammals on the night shift.”

Val's tail swished idly as she cocked her head at the tall wolf. 

“Why's that?” The vixen asked.

Vernon lolled his head uncomfortably.

“Well...As Gus mentioned workin' the night shift is purty...” The wolf gestured his paws up slightly. “Slow.”

“Boring.” Val corrected, quirking a brow. “Right?”

The wolf sighed. “I prefer to say slow.” 

The vixen smirked slightly at the thought of ribbing the wolf using the word slow, remarking that it seemed to be his species fixed speed. But once again the vixen bit her tongue, as it was yet another opportunity that would presumably fall flat to annoy Vernon.

“I mean don’t get me wrong.” The wolf added. “We got some cleanin’ ahead of us, and some nights are busier than others in terms of cleanin’.” Vernon offered a shrug. 

”Thing is, Gus’s old Mam’-” The wolf paused, coughing into his paw. “The Manager.” The wolf corrected himself. “Has the day shifters clean up most of the stuff on their way out.” Vernon continued. “On top o’ that, the Manager has a lot of new-fangled, prototype machines back here he don’t want us wagers tinkering with their guts.” The wolf chuckled. “There’s a special crew that comes in every couple o’ days from corporate that handles that.”

“Nah, The real tough part is more about rememberin’ how to make stuff off the menu when customers actually show since y'all don't get as much practice as the day shifters.” The wolf admitted, rubbing his neck uncomfortably. “Heavy repetition makes it easier to remember.” 

Val furrowed her brow. “So what do I do then?” The vixen queried. 

Vernon offered a shrug. “Got one of them smartphones?” 

Val rolled her eyes at the question, letting out an amused snort. What mammal didn't carry a smartphone in this day and age? 

“Of course I do, grandpa.” The vixen chuckled. 

“Well the wifi's free in this place, so y'all can use the internet and chat services and such.” The wolf slipped his own phone out of his pocket, gesturing a paw to it as he turned the face toward himself. “O' course, there's always games too.” The wolf chuckled. “Now would be a good time to have a few of 'em on paw y'all have been meaning to play.”

Val grimaced. While grateful to have any internet at all in this grease shack, the vixen wasn't sure she'd be able to keep herself entertained on that much alone for seven and a half hours, and that was just for this evening. At this rate, the vixen could scarcely conceive what the rest of her summer was going to be like.

“That's it?” Val asked. “That's all I've got to keep me busy for the rest of the shift?”

The wolf offered a rather nervous smile, raising his paws defensively.

“Well, there's always talkin'.” The wolf replied. “Speakin' of...”The wolf scratched the back of his head. “Now that I've been over all this stuff, ya got any questions for me?”

Val looked at her legs for a moment, continuing to idly sway them back and forth as she ruminated on her situation. Stuck in a Bug Burga for eight hours, four days a week, all Summer, with nothing to do but play phone games or talk to some dumb old wolf. In that moment the vixen began to wonder if perhaps she had died in the motorcycle accident, and this Bug Burga was meant to be her purgatory, or maybe even Hades itself. She had once heard her father mention something about the 'banality of evil' when she was younger. It was something she hadn't understood at the time, but now...

The vixen shook her head briskly in an effort to chase away the thought. No, she was most certainly alive. After all, maybe she had deserved purgatory, but her father certainly didn't, so there was no way he would have been here to deliver her unto this place. Also, the mean chafe that was starting to form on her thighs from the fabric continually brushing across her legs felt far too real.

With that mental quandary out of the way, the vixen's mind returned to that question that had been slowly burning in her mind as her attention turned back to the wolf with the friendly smile. Just why had he helped her out? Was he just some bleeding heart? Or was there more to this wolf than his vacant looking eyes seemed to express.

“Alright, I gotta know...” Val uttered with a sigh, her kicking finally ceasing as she squinted at the towering wolf suspiciously. “What's your angle?”

“Huh?” Vernon asked, his ear's skewing in different directions as a confused expression crawled across her muzzle.

“That buggy horned goat said 'you whined at him' to hire me.” The vixen continued, her glare growing sharp and accusatory as Vernon's tail grew still, and began to sag. “You do that for every teenage vixen you come across or..?”

Suddenly it dawned on her, the most obvious answer. It was something Val cursed herself for being as dumb as the wolf in question for not thinking of in the first place. Of course this hick had heard the old fox stereotypes. But not just the bits about foxes being sneaky and shifty on the whole, no. He had also clearly heard about vixen's being an easy lay. With that revelation, the mystery had been solved. This dumb wolf hadn't planned on helping her out without getting a taste of some ‘cookie’ in return.

“Ahh...I get it.” Val cooed, a wry smirk forming on her muzzle as she eyed the wolf suspiciously. “You were hoping for a reward, is that it?”

The wolf's confusion persisted, his brow furrowing as he scratched his head.  
“Reward?” The wolf replied.

Val pressed her paws against the counter, leaning forward slightly as she traced the wolf with her eyes. He may have been dumb, sure. But he wasn't half bad looking. Tall, broad-shouldered unlike most wolves. The vixen flashed a mischievous smile at the wolf, licking her lip slightly, her blue eyes tracing the crotch of his pin striped pants as she continued her appraisal. Surely a wolf of this size was hiding a roll of quarters in that pair of pants to match. 

Val wasn't normally the type of vixen to give in to a pred looking for a quick, cheap rut. In fact, the kind of mammals who felt 'entitled' to getting around with her based on the stereotype surrounding female foxes usually ended up earning a swift kick in the crotch for their troubles. But the prospect of mating with a wolf, something she had never done before was somewhat intriguing. At least, intriguing enough to see exactly how the wolf planned to play off his 'noble deed'. 

“You know...” The vixen bobbed her eyebrows seductively, signaling to the wolf with her shimmering blue eyes as she glanced down to her own hidden nethers. “Reward?” She cooed.

Val watched as the 'v' between Vernon's brow deepened, the wolf looking just as confused as before. 

“I...I'm sorry?” Vernon replied, his tone laced with confusion. “I don't under-”

“Boy, you wolves really are dumb.” Val cut him off, rolling her eyes as she let out a scoff. Jerking her head in a quick motion in an effort to swish her coif out of her eyes, the vixen made a slow, deliberate show of spreading her legs suggestively, trying to appear as sexy as she could while basically wearing a clown's uniform.

“Do I need to spell it out for you?” The vixen let out a soft, suggestive moan, batting her eyes at her co-worker seductively.

The wolf blinked rapidly for a moment, his confused expression remaining only for a brief moment before his eyes grew wide in surprise and what appeared to be horror. It appeared the wolf had finally gotten the message, but his reaction was somewhat startling.

“W-WHAT!?” The wolf spat, taking a step back from the vixen and banging his lower back into the counter behind him with an audible thunk. Val winced slightly, her ears drooping as the wolf let out a sudden whine, Vernon aggressively rubbing the impact point on his back as he averted his gaze from Val's own. 

“S-Sweet Sawgrass, No Ma'am!” The wolf retorted nervously.

Val cocked her head in her own confusion as the wolf continued to cow away from her. Had she gotten it wrong? The big dumb hick dog hadn't been looking to get in her pants?

“Hey dude, like...it's fine.” The vixen tried to reassure him, still somewhat bewildered by his reaction. “I'm not mad or anything, I'm actually kinda curious myself so...”

“T-Teeth to tails gal! I'm twenty-eight!” The wolf replied, his muzzle now flaring red in embarrassment. “And what are you, sixteen?”

Val was still somewhat surprised by the wolf's over the top performance. It all seemed genuine, at least as far as she could tell. She imagined most other vixen's in her situation would have been embarrassed by the misunderstanding. But the fact that she had finally found a method to get the wolf's dander up easily buried any semblance of shame or awkwardness under a wash of gleeful impish pleasure. She was going to have fun with this.

“I'll be seventeen in a month and a half.” The vixen replied, licking her lips as she smiled back at the flustered wolf. Val leaned forward once again, her tone lowered to that of a husky, seductive whisper. “I won't tell my Dad...” Val cooed. “We can just go in the back and...”

“Ab-Absolutely not lil' Miss!” The wolf rebuffed, his expression looking almost pained as he did so. 

“C'mon, you can't tell me you've never wanted a go at a vixen before.” Val continued to tease. Doing her best to stifle her urge to laugh as she watched the wolf continue to stumble over himself. 

“I-I'm staunchly a she-wolf kinda male.” Vernon stuttered.

The vixen rolled her eyes. “Foxes and wolves are in the same family.” The vixen chuckled. “We're both canines. Practically cousins.” Val could barely contain her snicker. Again, another jab about the wolf being into mating with his cousins considering his clear rural background. It was starting to look like those months that lay aheadwould be significantly less boring with this card in her paw.

Vernon briskly shook his head in dismissal. “Look, Miss Val...” Vernon seemed to be struggling to compose himself. “Even if you was close to my age...I mean...” The large grey wolf continued. “ I'm about as attracted to y'all as...like some sorta inanimate object...” The wolf gestured a trembling paw at nothing in particular. “Like bein' attracted to a woolly sweater er' somethin'.”

Val faked a pouting expression, her legs shifting back to idly swinging as she turned her gaze to the floor.

“Ouch.” The vixen replied. It was a half-truth. While she was teasing the wolf, being compared to a sweater didn't exactly make her feel all that great.

“And I don't even know anythin' about y'all!” The wolf added, shaking his head dismissively. “I prefer to get to know a gal before...y'know...gettin' intimate.” The wolf's tone grew quieter toward the end of his statement, barely a whisper as he spoke the word 'intimate', although he feared being scolded like a pup.

The inadvertent jab, coupled with the wolf's own admission that he barely knew the vixen had drawn Val's mind back to the topic at paw. Now slightly flustered herself, the vixen furrowed her brow in annoyance.

“So then why did you help me!?” The vixen spat in an irritated tone. “Why did you go to bat for someone you don't even know if not for an easy rut!?”

Despite still maintaining a slight blush, and a look of discomfort, the wolf managed a rather calm reply.

“Yer Pa...” Vernon replied, his eyes drifting down toward his feet. “Me and my brother felt bad fer yer Pa alright?”

Val cocked her head in mild confusion. “Your brother?”

Vernon let out a sigh. “He's the other wolf Gus mentioned. My brother Wade.” The tall wolf admitted with a shrug. “I...dunno what yer father told y'all...but...”

“Not that much...” Val admitted, rubbing her upper arm uneasily. While not willing to admit to the wolf that she hadn't done much in the way of talking to her father about any of this until just this evening, it was easy to be honest about her lack of knowledge in terms of exactly what went down while she was unconscious.

“My brother is a new recruit fer the ZPD.” The wolf continued. “ Him and his senior Officer, that rhino fella, were in the area when y'all took that spill off yer bike. And so they were the one's waitin' at the hospital to get in touch with yer family about...well...” Vernon winced uncomfortably. “The charges you were facin'..”

“And where does my Dad come in?” Val asked curiously.

With a soft grunt, Vernon pressed himself up onto the counter behind him, the wolf taking a similar stance to Val's own as he continued to spin his tale.

“Welp, when yer Pa came down to the hospital, and Officer Keras told 'em what ya'll were lookin' at in terms of sentencin', yer Pa just broke down completely.” The wolf frowned. “At least that's what my brother said anyway.”

The vixen winced. She could vaguely recall some hazy images of her father with the officers, but it all seemed more like a dream than anything else. 

“He sobbed and begged, throwin' himself at them officer's mercy fer y'all.” The wolf said with a somber sigh. “Tellin' 'em about how difficult everythin' has been fer the both of y'all over the years, what with yer...I mean...” The wolf's voice grew low, his tone sounding increasingly uncomfortable as he continued. “What happened with yer Ma and all...”

Val froze slightly, a tinge of pain squeezing at her chest as she continued to picture her father's pleading for her freedom. Imagining him having to discuss with some degree of detail what happened to Marian to strangers must have gutted the Ol' Mam considering he could barely discuss it with the vixen to this day. Val could feel that familiar ball of guilt starting to form in the pit of her stomach as she continued to listen to Vernon.

“Havin' to raise y'all by himself, and y'all basically goin' through life without a Mama...I...” The wolf shook his head, letting out a soft sniffle. “I can't even imagine...”

“So...my Dad...” Val muttered, trying to keep her emotions steady as she spoke. “He convinced the cops-.”

“He convinced my brother.” Vernon replied uncomfortably. “Had ol' Wade blubberin' like a pup by the end of it.” The wolf offered a weak chuckle. “Not that I was much better when I heard about it myself.” The wolf shook his head. “But Officer Keras was...less sympathetic to yer Ol' Mam's plight.”

Val tilted her head in confusion. 

“Then wh-?” The vixen shook her head. “Then how? I mean how did I-?”

Vernon gestured a paw in the direction of the front of the restaurant, pointed a claw to the outdoor picnic area just outside the main windows.

“Can y’all see that lamp post there?” The wolf asked. “The one flickering?”

Val squinted to make out the object that stood beyond the outdoor patio, the looming lamppost on the edge of the street that seemed to be flickering on and off periodically. A few, brief illuminations quickly made the vixen aware that not only was it faulty, but seemed to be leaning slightly off-center.

“Lucky fer y'all, this Bug Burga happened to be the one y'all crashed into.” The wolf continued with a chuckle. “We may have fixed the table purty quickly, but that lamp post you dinged mid-spill is still there markin’ the site. It’s the only evidence that yer little accident even happened.” The wolf shook his head. “Y’all know the city takes it’s sweet time to fix things like that.”

Val offered the wolf a slightly confused expression, ears loping off to different sides as she eyed him.

“Point bein’.” The wolf seemed to take her gesture as a sign to continue.” Not only did I have an ear on the inside with Wade, but the fact that y'all had plowed into our restaurant meant that ol' Gus had some say in the charges bein' pressed.”

Once again, Vernon flashed the vixen his rather familiar lopsided smile. 

“As y'all probably can guess, Ol' Gus was dyin' to fill out this extra slot.” The wolf laughed. “Even enrolled in a bunch of government rehabilitation programs just to keep the damn thing filled up.”

“So then he...?” The vixen muttered, glancing at the double doors the irritable old billy had ambled through just half an hour earlier.

“Well, not without me and Wade houndin' him to take you on.” The wolf continued with a laugh. “It wasn't easy, even with him bein' desperate to fill the space up he was still purty reluctant to take on another...er...” The wolf squirmed uncomfortably, his tone growing low as he spoke. “Fox.” The wolf uttered at practically a whisper. 

“But you was still a pup, at least that's what I said.” The wolf chuckled. “Pups make mistakes.” Vernon shrugged. “Don't deserve to have yer life ruined over somethin' like that.”

Despite the sincerity, Val couldn't help but roll her eyes. She had been saved by not one, but two dumb wolves. The brother wolves naivety in terms of knowing what Val was actually up to, or capable of, keeping her out of Juvenile hall by the fur's breadth of her tail. For a moment she found herself mentally weighing Vernon and the unseen Wade's wolfish intellect against Ed's, wondering just which of the mammals were dumber before settling on the wolves being just a smidgen more intelligent than that empty-headed hyena. Still, it painted a clearer picture as to why a mammal like Vernon worked at this hole in the wall. And it kept at least one more wolf from being entrusted with any sort of police weaponry, unlike his brother. Why they allowed wolves to be cops Val still couldn't help but question.

Still, the fact that Vernon had brought up 'foxes' in that hushed, uneasy tone told the vixen it was clear he was well aware of the stigma surrounding them. Of the stereotypes that painted foxes as nothing more than shifty criminals, looking to scam the next sap they stumbled upon. Knowing that, it spurred a final question to the forefront of the vixen's mind.

“So...how do you know my Dad wasn't lying about me huh?” The vixen replied with a scoff, puffing her chest slightly as she flashed the wolf a rather threatening glare. “I mean you know how we foxes are...” Val continued. “We're natural-born scam artists after all.”

The vixen flashed the wolf a smug smile. “I could have been fleeing a petty robbery that night.” Val continued. “Or, maybe I vandalized some public property.” Val chuckled darkly. “I might of even been in a s-street race and, and...” The vixen tried her best to keep her tone consistent over the little spoonful of truth she had squeezed into her tirade so as to avoid cluing in the rather dim-witted wolf. “I'm probably capable of stealing from the cash register when you’re in the bathroom or whatever.” Val concluded, crossing her arms smugly.

Despite her performance, the wolf flashed her his trademark warm, lopsided smile.

“Well first off, we got camera's all over the place.” The wolf said with a chuckle, stabbing a claw upward. Following his finger, Val's eyes eventually fell on a small security camera nestled in the ceiling. Panning her gaze along the tiling the vixen easily spotted several more aimed at various parts of the restaurant, appearing to leave no corner unobserved.

“Not that I was worried about that sorta thing anyway...” The wolf continued, drawing Val's attention back to him.

“But even at the time, it was more that me and my brother felt sympathy fer yer ol' Mam.” The wolf admitted with a sigh. “And after Wade dragged me out to meet the poor fella and hear directly from the source instead of just second paw, I mean...” The wolf sighed. “I could tell he was bein' genuine, and so could my brother.” 

Val cocked her head curiously. “And how did you manage that?”

The wolf chuckled, pointing a finger to the tip of his snout. 

“A Hunter can smell Bullshit from a mile away.” Vernon said, tapping his nose. “It's somethin' those of us in the family like to call Hunter's intuition.” The wolf chuckled. “And yer ol' man passed our sniffer's test with flyin' colors.”

Val let out a scoff, rolling her eyes at the remark.

'On second thought, maybe Ed is smarter than these goons.' The vixen smirked to herself. 'This mook isn't just dumb, but superstitious to boot.' Val sighed. 'Just what have I gotten myself into?'

Vernon seemed to noticed her increasingly bemused expression, however, the wolf seemed nonplussed, instead flashing her a knowing smile.

“He wasn't lyin' then.” The wolf continued, crossing his arms. “And neither of y'all were lyin' when y'all shared that little hug out in the parking lot.”

Val's eye went wide, her tail fraying up immediately as she gripped the counter.

“W-wait, wh-what?” Val sputtered, the vixen suddenly caught off guard.

Vernon nodded knowingly. “ I couldn't exactly hear what ya'll was sayin', but that little moment I caught a glimpse of not only conformed I made the right call with yer Pa, but that yer bite ain't nearly as bad as yer bark Lil' Miss.”

“I-I…!” Val stuttered, the vixen growing increasingly flustered as she struggled to find her words. “I di...I mean I-!”

Vernon suddenly held up a paw, stopping the vixen's blithering commentary as he placed a finger against the part of the headset that was pressed into his ear.

“Welcome to Bug Burga, what can I get fer y'all tonight?” The wolf spoke into the microphone hanging from his earpiece. With a grunt, the wolf had pressed himself off the counter, making a casual stride toward the still dumbfounded vixen. Picking up the hat laying at her side, Vernon flicked it open with a paw before gingerly placing it atop her head and gently patting it into place.

“Grapefruit blend? Comin' right up.” The wolf continued, flashing the vixen a small smirk as he held a paw over the microphone.

“Well, I just taught y'all that one, so let's see how ya do.” The wolf added, before summarily strolling further into the kitchen and leaving the bewildered vixen behind. Finally managing to close her muzzle, the vixen puffed her cheeks in annoyance, her brow furrowing tightly as she glared in the direction the wolf had walked off to. Val gripped the hat on her head with a paw, tossing it sharply to the floor before hopping off the counter herself.

“You didn't see his car too did you!?” The vixen finally managed to bark, her tone a mixture of annoyance and concern as she tromped after the wolf.

Slowly but surely Val began to adjust to the drudgery of working at the Bug Burga, each shift passing just as slowly as the learning curve. However, growing increasingly acclimated to the environment, and more comfortable with the mammals she worked alongside of helped to ease the boredom to some degree. Well, as comfortable as she would allow herself to be around her whiny and irritable manager Gus, or her dopey, overly friendly co-worker Vernon. Thankfully, as naive as the wolf seemed most times, he seemed smart enough to never press her too deeply about her father or family after the first night's shift. Not that she would have answered him anyway, of course. But it made the work that much easier to limit conversations to surface interests rather than anything particularly deep. Of course, sometimes Vernon would share stories about his own family, but not in such a way that seemed to invite the vixen to share her own experiences. 

To top it off, after completing her first week with admittedly less complaining than both she or her father had expected, the vixen was finally allowed access to the garage, as well as her precious Red. Being reunited with the crumpled machine was bittersweet. On the one paw, Red had certainly seen worse days in his past. But on the other paw, that fact hadn't meant that the accident had been all that merciful to him. While the bike had mostly held together, only losing a few parts in the process, a multitude of the parts still fixed to his frame were too badly damaged to simply try and patch up and hope for the best. They would all require full replacements, and at least several 'stand-in' parts in order to actually use the bike once again when the vixen got her license back. Parts that would allow her to safely use Ol' Red while she returned to hunting and scrounging for the genuine parts to replace over time. It was a somewhat disheartening blow for Val, but not unexpected, and less devastating than she had been imagining while Red's location and state had remained in limbo. 

For that first two weeks, the vixen actually managed to develop some semblance of hope that maybe, just maybe, if she scrimped and saved accordingly, maybe even begged her father or Ellie for a loan, she might be able to get Red back on the road in a year, maybe less. But those dreams were utterly dashed with the arrival of her first paycheck, just before her shift.

She hadn't expected a massive paycheck, but what she had received was practically an insult. The paltry sum printed on the scrap of paper was practically mocking her, gleefully dancing on the shattered remains of her slight modicum of optimism that she had struggled to build up over the previous weeks. And that hadn't even accounted for the added salt in the wound provided by the additional 'deductions' removed from her first weeks pay for her replacement uniform and custom name tag, something that Gus would later apologize for when she angrily confronted the goat at the start of her next shift. Apparently pushing the cost of required workwear on to the employee was also 'corporate policy'. The fact that it fit better than the loaner was little consolation, and to further salt the wound, it wasn’t any more comfortable than the previous ill-fitting temp outfit she had received on her first night.

Needless to say, Val had already been decidedly on edge at the start of that shift. The vixen's emotional core wound tight with a mixture of rage and sorrow. If this is how little she stood to earn enduring working at this little hole in the wall, then even loans from Cameron or Ellie wouldn't be enough to see Red once again screaming across the back dunes by next summer. Hell, by the next six summers even unless she managed to luck out rooting around through Sandersnout’s scrapyard again. But she couldn’t exactly count on lightning striking twice. For a brief moment, as the vixen stood tending to a batch of hot cicada chips, Val briefly entertained the idea of simply sticking her face into the fryer. At the very least it would make for an immediate distraction from her current woes, and with the possibility of ending up with a fat stack of workers compensation checks after she got out of the hospital again.

“Y'all alright there Lil' Miss?” Vernon asked, snapping Val out of her rather morbid daydream. 

The vixen turned to face her co-worker, flashing the concerned looking wolf a rather dull glare.

“I'm fine Vern.” Val muttered. “And would you stop calling me Little Miss already!? Yeesh!”

The wolf let out a soft chuckle, raising his paws defensively as he took a step back from the irate vixen.

“Alright, easy now.” The wolf replied, his ears sagging slightly. “Y'all just seemed tense is all.” Vernon continued, averting his gaze slightly. “And I think I got my answer on that one.” The wolf mumbled quietly.

Val let out a soft huff, her coif of hair dancing against the tip of her snout as her gaze slunk back to the bubbling pit of oil.

“I don't want to talk about it.” The vixen grumbled, before throwing the wolf a rather stern glare. “And don't you dare do use that 'Hunter Intuition' thing on me alright!?” The vixen snapped. “I don't need trying to read me again, it's creepy.”

The wolf chuckled softly. “Well, I mean it don't take any kinda fancy sniffin' to tell yer' in a bad mood.” Vernon continued. “You've been starin' into the fryer like it was gonna eat y'all fer a good five minutes.” The wolf winced. “And about two minutes over the timer fer that matter...”

Val's attention snapped back to the sizzling pit, her nose now suddenly aware of the growing pungent scent of charred cicada chips.

“Damnit!” The vixen hissed, quickly pulling the basket out of the fryer to reveal a clump of dark brown, unrecognizable insect bits. Val turned sharply away from the fryer, placing both paws on her head and glancing up at the ceiling. Running her paws over her face and up into her sprig of head fur, the vixen let out a terse sigh before slumping down the side of the counter.

Now on the floor, the vixen wrapped her paws around her legs, slinking her head into her knees. For a few moments, she sat there in silence, her brain still wracked with the imprinted image of her paltry paycheck as she cursed quietly to herself.

“Hey, no worries now Val.” She could hear the dopey wolf interject, his tone laced with concern. “Ain't the first time one of us has burned a batch o' chips.” Vernon chuckled softly. “Hell, Gus always managed to burn them despite the timer because he'd always ferget about 'em.”

The vixen weakly raised her head, glancing back up at the towering wolf, now hunched slightly as he crouched by her side. The wolf placed a reassuring paw on her shoulder, albeit with some degree of nervous reluctance. The vixen simply rolled her eyes. It looked like there was little she could do short of biting the wolf that would keep him from prying.

“So how'd he make manager?” Val asked dully.

“Well, his Grandpa owns the place.” The wolf chuckled.

Val shook her head dismissively. “Right.” She had vaguely remembered the wolf mentioning it in their previous conversations, but it still wasn’t surprising. Being in any sort of authoritative role in some retail job tended to come with the prerequisite of being related to someone higher up on the ladder. That and being a huge ass-hat, and Gus check marked both of those boxes to a tee.

“Y'all sure y'all don't want to tell me what's eatin' ya?” The wolf pressed, giving Val's shoulder a light squeeze. It was clear the wolf was genuinely concerned for her. Everything in his stance, from his limp, sagging tail to his droopy ears told her as much. But again, a discussion about her personal issues was the last thing she wanted to share with the hick wolf. If she was going to vent, it was to be to Ellie or her father, and she had to endure several more long hours before she'd have the opportunity to do so.

Val let out a tired sigh.

“No. Okay?” The vixen replied, giving the wolf a rather serious stare which only seemed to cause the wolf to deflate further. The vixen rolled her eyes slightly, letting out a soft huff that caused her hair to bounce. 

“Just, not now okay?” The vixen added, now having turned to reassuring the large wolf instead of the other way around.

With a sigh, Vernon released his grip on her shoulder and rose to his feet.

“Alright, fair enough.” The wolf relented, dusting his paws off. “But if y'all want to talk later, y'all know I've always got an ear up, okay?”

Slowly rising to her feet, the vixen dusted off her own crude uniform, glaring down at it for a moment with complete disdain.

“Sixty dollars my ass...” The vixen thought to herself before turning a forced smile in Vernon's direction.

“I'll...think about it.” The vixen replied.

The wolf nodded, seemingly placated by the vixen's response for the moment. 

Suddenly the wolf's ears perked up, an expression Val had grown used to meaning that some mammal had ambled up to the drive-through. Val watched as the wolf put a finger to his headset, confirming her assessment.

“Hello, welcome to Bug Burga, what can I get y'all tonight?” The wolf chirped cheerily. Val watched as the wolf nodded softly a few times, with only the vague, indescribable noises weakly escaping from his headset indicating that someone was actually listing off an order.

“Alright, that's a number nine large and a Mango fruit blend?” The wolf replied to the voice on the line.

There was another bit of chatter, which had the wolf nodding affirmatively once again.

“Alright, please drive to the second window.” The wolf added, before turning his attention back to the vixen standing in front of him.

“Hey Lil' Mi-” The wolf stopped himself short as the vixen's gaze tightened on him. Vernon coughed awkwardly. “Val, why don't y'all take a bathroom break and I'll fix this order up, alright?”

Val rolled her eyes, letting out a scoff.

“Look, I can work, okay.” The vixen said with a snort. “I'm not a kit, I can keep my emotions in check.”

The wolf stared at her in silence for a moment. Behind his deep green eyes, the vixen could sense a twinge of reluctance. Vernon braced his neck with a paw, his gaze shifting toward the ceiling as he winced uneasily.

“A-alright. If yer sure.” The wolf murmured weakly.

“I-I'll handle the hot food, and y'all can fix the drink.” The wolf continued, gesturing a paw to the drink machine. “Then I'll hand the meal off to y'all and you can take it all to the customer.” Vernon offered a weak smile. “Sound fair?”

Val rolled her eyes, letting out a soft chuckle.

“Aye, aye mon capitain.” The vixen replied dully, offering the wolf a mock salute, before turning on her heels and making tracks for the shake machine. 

By now, making the sickeningly sweet, heavily chemically sugared frozen drinks was something the vixen loathed to admit she could practically perform in her sleep. A few pumps of syrup, two or three scoop fulls of questionable clumps of ice, and a few quick pulses of ice crush on the industrial blender and the drink was done in the blink of an eye. Luckily, the large wolf was equally as quick with his part of the equation.

The wolf handed the vixen a brown, lightly grease-stained bag emblazoned with the familiar Bug Burga Logo on the front, which Val took with a wary claw, the vixen making sure to hold the bag an arm’s length away from her body as she had long grown accustomed to by now.

Making her way toward the window, the vixen could easily tell the mammal on the other side was close to her height. While the vixen wouldn't exactly consider herself grateful for such a thing, it did make her work a little bit easier when she didn't have to scale the ladder up to the mega-fauna window, or practically lay prone on the dirty floor to hand off food to mice and other smaller mammals. However, when she opened the window, any brief sense of being pleased immediately evaporated when her eyes fell upon the customer.

Pulled up to the drive-through window was a rather slick-looking modern motorcycle. Some neon green and black affair with sharp-looking edges curved elegantly along its body. It almost looked like one of the light cycles from the movie TROT, right down to the absence of spokes in the tires and the windshield that covered most of the driver's compartment. Val recognized the make and model immediately, A Pandai Aburro, probably only about a year old based on the rather wild, abstract design. But unfortunately, as the windshield began to rise, she quickly recognized the driver as well.

Seated on the bike was a Caracal Cat dressed in a black pleather jacket and faded, ripped blue jeans, his tail idly swaying as he turned his attention her way. Removing his slick black helmet, Val watched as his tapered ears twitched slightly as he squinted at her, his sky blue eyes shimmering with recognition as a grin crawled across his muzzle.

“Hey, don't I know you from somewhere?” The cat asked, his whiskers twitching slightly as he rested his helmet on the back of his bike.

“Nope, you don't.” Val replied bluntly, extending a paw. “That'll be nine forty-eight.” The vixen flicked her fingers impatiently, trying to brush the cat off as quickly as possible.

The characal gave a slight shrug as he reached into his coat pocket, pulling his wallet free. As the cat passed his credit card into Val's twitching fingers, he held it preventing Val from retracting as he looked into her eyes.

“Yeah! Yeah I do know you!” The cat blurted out excitedly. 

With a sharp tug, Val finally clawed the card free from his grasp. The vixen cursing under her breath as she moved to slide the card.

“From the races right!?” The cat continued, clearly failing to pick up and the vixen's dismissive attitude, or choosing to ignore it. “You're that vixen who always rode that Red jalopy of a bike around!”

Val grit her teeth as she waited for the transaction to process. The vixen staring with an increasingly sharpening, hateful glare as the words 'transaction processing' blinked back at her from the credit card pad. Usually these orders went by like clockwork for the vixen. But suddenly it felt as though it was taking forever to finish.

“Arin? Arin Derwhisker?” The cat grinned broadly, as if he had expected his reputation to precede him somehow.

'Card read error'. The led screen blinked back at the vixen. Val bit down on her tongue, stabbing the organ with one of her sharp fangs as she swiped the card through the slider once again with more force.

“A-Anyway..” The cat continued, wiping his whiskers with a paw. “Mam' I haven't seen you on the racing scene since the accident! Where you been?” The cat chuckled. “Don't tell me your bike is actually out of commission now?”

Val's vision was starting to tint red as the pad once again flickered 'Card read error' back at her.

“I mean, no offense but that thing looked like it was already held together with string and duct tape.” Arin continued. “ I still can't believe you managed to win the Gallup Hill run on that hunk of junk.”

Val swiped the card through once more, this time so sharply that the pad pulled loose from it's Velcro harness, nearly clattering off the counter as she seethed.

“Don't tell me you actually work here, do you?” Arin ran a paw over his head fur, a look of amused awe overtaking his features. The cat let out a snicker. “Wow, how the mighty have fallen to flipping burgers.” Arin sighed. “Well if this is where you're spending your nights, I've probably got a better shot at the races with you out of 'em.”

'Card. Read. Error.'

“At least the uniform suits you pretty well...” Arin added with a purr.

Val suddenly turned to face the cat, her eyes now wide with unbridled rage as she proceeded to remove the cover from the grapefruit blend sat on the counter. Without a single word, Val reached the cup out over Arin's lap, dumping the frigid contents on it in one, swift movement.

“WHAT THE HE-HE-EL-!” The cat quickly grasped at his lap with his paws, his ears flattening against his head as he began to shudder. However, Val remained unsatisfied as she opened up the brown, greasy bag of food and summarily added to the mess by dumping the contents of the bag out onto Arin's now cowed head. The vixen watching in silent satisfaction as cicada chips spilled down the collar of his pricey looking jacked, and the top half of his bug burga slid down his muzzle.

Arin glanced down at the mess now spilled all over him, blinking in stunned silence for a few moments before glancing back at the vixen, his features contorted in confusion as he stared back at the smug-looking fox in the window. Val simply wiped her paws, looking upon the soaked caracal as though the avalanche of food was nothing short of a job well done on her part.

The vixen expected angry shouts, perhaps more badmouthing slung at herself or her prized bike. And she was well prepared for it. She could feel the fur on her tail begin to stand on end as she readied to tear into the dumb feline. Her mind was a white-hot rage, dulling any and all concerns over being reprimanded or fired in favor of rubbing the smarmy cat's nose into the dirt and messing up those pretty whiskers of his.

What she hadn't been prepared for however, was Arin's actual response.

Once again the cat looked to his lap, the slop of food mixture still oozing into his clothing as he continued his silent appraisal. Val watched as the caracal ran two fingers down one of his whiskers, extracting a bead of what Val could only guess was some of his burger onto his paw pads before lapping at them with a rather glum expression. 

Turning his attention back to the vixen, the feline's ears sagged heavily as he braced his neck with a paw.

“G-Geeze...I mean...I'm sorry lady.” The cat muttered awkwardly. “I-I was just playin' a bit of the racing trash talk game with a seasoned vet...” The cat winced. “I-I wasn't really looking to get under your pelt or anything...”

Val's ears stood sharply on end, her brow furrowing slightly as she watched the cat look to his lap once more.

“I guess I did go a little hard...” 

“What the heck is goin' on over-!?” Val shrunk into her shoulder's at the sound of Vernon's voice. The wolf had suddenly sidled up alongside her, visibly wiping his paws from what Val could only assume was a bathroom break as he craned his head over her and out the window.

“Sweet Sawgrass!” The wolf uttered, appraising the drenched feline. “What happened?”

Val could feel herself shrinking as she watched Vernon from the corner of her eyes. There was no way she was going to get out of this one. Sure, she had made a few snide remarks to customers here and there, but this? No, this was definitely going to get her reprimanded, or worse when that old billy goat heard about it. Something like this could have very well seen Gus revoke her position entirely, and have her sent off to Juvenile Hall after all. But to the vixen's continued surprise, the caracal offered an embarrassed smirk, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.

“Er, I'm a bit of a butter fingers...” The cat murmured weakly. “Sorry about that.”

Vernon quirked a brow. “Y'all...dropped all yer food?” The wolf uttered dubiously. “All of it, on yerself?” 

The caracal offered a meek chuckle. “I-I had my paw on the clutch and well...I made the bike kinda buck while trying to handle the food...”

Vernon glanced back at Val, the vixen still cowing into her shoulders and doing a rather poor job of hiding her surprise. Her blue eyes remained wide as she glanced back at her co-worker and struggled to corroborate Arin's story.

“A...A-yeah, what he said.” The vixen muttered dumbly, her expressions doing little favor for her in the way of appearing genuine as the wolf squinted at her. Vernon's eyes studied her for a moment, the wolf's expression growing increasing skeptical as it lingered.

“I can remake it iffin’ y’all want.” Vernon replied, his analyzing gaze still fixed on the vixen as he spoke. “We won’t charg-”

“Oh no.” The cat quickly cut him off, raising his paws. “Please, I insist on paying for both.” 

His response was enough to break Vern’s judgemental gaze for but a moment, the wolf looking somewhat surprised as he eyed the feline with equal skepticism.

The cat shrugged weakly. “It is my fault after all.” He added, offering the wolf a waivering smirk.

Vernon glanced back at Val once more, his analytic and peircing gaze returning.

Val offered a nervous smile of her own. “You heard the mammal!” Val exclaimed, trying to avert he gaze from Vernon’s own. “You should hop to it, after all, the customer is always right, right?” The vixen forced her grin to widen, despite it more than likely making her look that much more supsicious to the wolf.

Vernon held his gaze on her for a brief moment longer before the wolf simply shook his head. It was written all over his face that he could tell there was some sort of lie being told, but whether he knew just what had actually happened Val couldn't tell. Even so, it was clear the wolf had elected to let it go as he let out another sigh.

“I'll fix up the meal and the drink this time.” The wolf muttered, reaching a paw over to the counter and ripping a wad of napkins out of one of the dispensers before handing it off to Val. “Y'all can ring up his order and...” The wolf ran a paw through his scalp fur. “Teeth to Tails, just help him get cleaned up.”

With that, Vernon's looming shape dissipated from over her shoulder, the wolf shuffling off into the kitchen, and leaving the pair in silence.

Arin returned to his awkward scratching, the feline looking down and away from the vixen as he pawed at the back of his neck uneasily. Not that Val was much better, as the bewildered vixen reached the clump of napkins out to the food covered caracal.

Arin grasped the wad of napkins daintily, the caracal swabbing sharply at his lap in a lame attempt to soak up some of the grease.

“Thanks...” The cat replied.

Val leaned her elbows onto the counter, quirking a brow at the feline as she re-doubled her efforts to analyze him, her rather cool and careless demeanor starting to flood back in now that the situation seemed to be diffused.

“Y'know, there was meant to be some compliments in there...right?” Arin admitted quietly.

“You mean the part where you called my bike a hunk of junk?” The vixen replied, lolling her head from one side to the other as she spoke. “Or the part where you complimented my clown outfit.”

Arin offered the vixen a weak, tentative smile.

“W-Well, I kinda meant you made that outfit look better by wearing it...” Arin offered her a rather hopeful smile.

Val rolled her eyes. “Nice try buddy.” The vixen chuckled.

“But seriously, I mean, you are like a legend in the racing scene.” The caracal continued. “I've heard from a few of the other racers still in the game that you could make anything fly on the streets.”

The vixen crossed her arms, quirking a rather dubious brow.

“Oh really now?”

“Yeah!” Arin nodded briskly. “Heard it from some of the best that you really knew your way around a bike.” 

Val offered a reluctant nod. She wasn't about to argue against her own prowess, even if she felt the caracal was trying to kiss up to her.

“I mean, you won a good chunk of races, and placed pretty damn highly in most of the others I've heard about, and all that on your...er...” 

Val glared at the wet feline as he continued to swab at his fur, the caracal shrinking slightly.

“Unique...” Arin muttered warily, seemingly fearful of another stroke of retaliation from the vixen at the window. However, Val simply continued to glare, glancing down at the feline judgmentally.

“Choice in rides, I mean...” The cat stumbled through his statement, raising a paw protectively for a moment as he sped through the rest of the sentence. “That just shows how much you know what you’re doing!”

Val turned her head sharply, causing her coif to bounce against her nose as she let out a derisive snort.

“Thanks.” The vixen muttered sarcastically.

“I mean it!” The feline protested.

“Uh-huh. Sure.” The vixen grumbled. “You say that to all the other racers in the game, or just the ones who pour food on your lap?”

“The fact that you poured food on my lap and I'm still saying that should speak volumes.” Arin replied.

Val glared at the caracal for a moment, squinting slightly before offering a rather weak shrug.

“That's fair.” The vixen replied.

With the wad of tissues seemingly all used up, the caracal handed them back to the vixen sheepishly. From what Val could tell, the napkins had done very little in actually cleaning up the mess. In fact, it looked more like it had merely smeared and caked the greasy food that much deeper into his clothing. Throwing the wad into the nearby trash-bin, the vixen began to pull more out of the dispenser, passing a fresh clump back to the feline.

“Here.” Val muttered.

Taking the napkins, the caracal offered her a broad smile.

“Thanks.” He replied.

“Whatever.” Val huffed in response.

Silence hung in the air for a brief moment, the caracal returning to cleaning himself as Val simply crossed her arms. She was beginning to wonder what was taking Vernon so long with the fresh food, the vixen increasingly eager to step away from this awkward encounter now that she had narrowly avoided a more serious confrontation. However, while Val was more than ready to have ended to the conversation, it seemed Arin was still eager to press his luck. She could tell by his body language that there was still something he wanted to say, and the sooner it was said, the sooner he’d be out of her life.

“Alright, out with it.” Val said with a dull huff.

“W-what?” Arin replied, seemingly caught off guard by her bluntness.

“I can tell you got something else you want to say by the way you are fidgeting and twitching.” The vixen added with a rather dull gaze.” So I’d rather not wait the twenty minutes you’d need to build upthe courage to mention whatever it is.” The vixen said snidely. “I don’t have that kind of time.”

Arin offered an awkward smile, the caracal rubbing the back of his neck as he shifted his gaze away from the vixen.

“Well you er...” Arin muttered, now seemingly second-guessing whatever he had thought to say. “You wouldn't be willing to do some maintenance work on my ride for me would you?”

The vixen's eyebrows rose sharply, her eyes narrowing on the feline. In response, Arin shrank into his shoulders.

“I-I wanted to make sure it was ready to ride for the next Falicier's Market run.” The cat began to sputter. “T-They changed the track a bit after...well...y'know...”

Val’s gaze sharpened on the caracal, her glare intensifying as Arin continued to fumble all over himself. 

“I can pay you!” The caracal barked.

Val's gaze softened, the phrase almost instantly defusing the growing ire as she raised a rather dubious eyebrow at the feline. The vixen crossed her arms once more, her ear's twitching with inquisitiveness as she leaned forward just a bit.

“You'd...” The vixen muttered. “Pay me?”

Arin chuckled. “Well I wouldn't expect you to do it for free.”

Val placed a paw to her chin, the vixen scratching it with her forefinger as she mulled over the caracal's proposition. If there was one thing the vixen needed now more than anything, it was cold hard cash. And working on a bike, even if it wasn't her own was scarcely work at all, at least in her mind. Getting deep into the guts of a machine and making it sing was something the vixen lived for. What's more, considering that the caracal was a fellow racer, and was still actively participating, it meant should the vixen do a good job, that would quickly lead to increased positive word of mouth, which could, in turn, lead to more repair and maintenance jobs. The gears had begun to whir in Val's mind, spinning and clicking as the beginning of a plan formed within her mind. A plan that could easily fast track the work required to get Red back on the road, and quite possibly back to his former glory. No asking for loans, no scrimping and saving Bug Burga paychecks for an eternity, and there was nothing illicit or dangerous about it, the second point being a great relief to her father.

A sly smirk crawled across the vixen's muzzle as she chuckled softly to herself.

Reaching out a paw, the vixen beckoned Arin's own. At first, the cat was rather reluctant to extend a paw, but with Val's increased gesturing, the feline placed his paw in hers. Val shook it rather tersely.

“Alright bud, I'll do it.” The vixen chuckled. “But only because your suspension system is all jacked up.”

Arin quirked a questioning brow.

“What are you talking about?” The feline muttered dumbly. “This cycle is barely a year old.”

Val offered the mammal a dull glare as she released her grip on his paw.

“Look, if you want to take on the Falicier's market run on that machine, there is no way you are gonna be able to do it unless that suspension is rock solid.” The vixen replied with a smirk. “And any mammal who knows anything about that type of bike knows they are designed with the whole ‘look’ taking precedence over performance.” The vixen gestured at the bike with a lame paw. “I can make it handle just as tight as it looks.”

Arin furrowed his brow. “Really?”

Val chuckled. “Trust me, we're talking about the difference between placing top ten or top three.” Val replied, her grin widening as she spoke. “Trust me.”

Arin lolled his head, wincing with uncertainty. “Well...” His skepticism held for just a few moments before the feline gave a brisk nod in agreement. 

“Alright fine.” The caracal replied. “So how are we doing this?”

“Well...” As Val began to prattle a rather rough shot at a plan for tightening up the feline's superbike, the other plan that had begun to germinate with her mind was taking a deeper, more decisive hold. Her plans for Ol' Red, nearly withered, had begun to blossom once more. The future for her most prized possession was suddenly looking increasingly bright.


	4. B&Business as Usual

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this took a while to come out, unsurprisingly. Thirty pages seems to be my standard now, which is probably off putting to some readers. Well, that and the refractory period between chapter releases. Obviously the holidays were a busy time, and then we had a nice little family emergency to round out the new year to further complicate things. An emergency that's still sort of rippling through my home life. That said, as a positive, (though not to get anyone's hopes too whipped up), thanks to getting off some of my medication, I strongly believe my writing time for chapters will shorten significantly. Without the meds weighing on my mind, literally, I'm having an easier time thinking clearly and writing more coherently. No promises, but we'll see what the next few months bring.
> 
> Until then, please enjoy the new chapter!
> 
> -WT

Chapter Four:  
B&Business as Usual

Looking back, if Val could have told her younger-self that despite how much she hated working fast food, despite how much she truly loathed the Bug Burga restaurant chain with an almost fiery passion, that she would agree to willingly keep working there beyond her legally required three-month sentence, her younger self would have found it impossible to believe. A Pre-community service debt Val would have more readily believed that her older self had been replaced by some sort of pod-mammal from one of those terrible old sci-fi movies before she would willingly accept that she would ever 'sell her soul to the mam' and become a wage slave. To be honest, even now the vixen felt she would have been unable to explain herself in a way her former self would accept. After all, she had quickly managed to score a pretty lucrative side hustle doing something she was legitimately passionate about within her first few weeks at the Bug Burga. A successful business venture that only continued to grow in size and value as her reputation spread around the underground racing scene. Hell, by the time she was roughly halfway through her mandated period working the night shift at the restaurant, the vixen had managed to scrounge up enough money to replace half of Red's damaged parts outright. And with only a month and a half of fast-food servitude in her future, Val was feeling pretty confident that she would easily be able to raise the other half, perhaps even with enough leftover cash to throw a little bonfire party in honor of Red's resurrection, complete with the ritualistic sacrifice of her Bug Burga uniform to top off the festivities. A great big final “Rut You!” to the establishment, as well as a symbolic representation of her newly regained freedom.

So why did she stay? How could she even properly frame the series of events and nuances that ultimately led to her deciding to keep a part-time position at the place until the restaurant met its grisly demise just a few months ago during the whole mess that was the “Zootopia's Last Night” terrorist attacks? To say it was complicated would have seemed like a cop-out in the eyes of a teenage Val, and to try to explain it would have taken longer than even her current self's attention span could truly endure.

The shortest answer Val could have provided was that, while her bike repair work was extremely lucrative, it also lacked the stability that a licensed, day to day job could provide. But even that would have just been recycling her father's own excuses for keeping the job rather than her own. If she had been willing to stand by that alone, she might as well have gone on to add just 'how crucial an on the books job is for a resume in terms of work experience' to her excuse. For the most part, these were things Val had never really cared about and still didn't. After all, at that point in her life the vixen was nearly done with high school. And based on that experience, she was damn sure she never wanted to set foot inside another 'school' for the rest of her life. In her mind, she was already a skilled enough rider and mechanic, so what purpose did two to four years doing everything but working on bikes serve other than to get her a scrap of paper and no real world experience. Of course, she would never tell her father that. It was a conversation that never went anywhere and ended with both mammals suffering from a mutual headache.

But staying on at the Bug Burga would prove to offer the vixen an out to those conversations, as well as a way of putting the older tod to some degree of ease about her situation as well as her plans for the future. While the paycheck was weak in comparison to what she could pull in from a minimum of two repair jobs a week, It still offered a rather lean life-line should her underground garage work experience any droughts. It was indeed a 'stable' job, as her father had claimed. And what's more, in the tod's eyes, while the clientele for both lines of work was equally questionable, the Bug Burga offered more 'actual' security. Cameras, locks, a large, intimidating co-worker to look after her, these were all things Val's in house garage was sorely lacking. Of course, her father was quick to express his lack of doubt in the vixen's ability to handle herself in threatening situations, but it did little to stem the dubious and questionable glare the vixen had levied at him at the time. It's wasn't like her father could have presumably done any better should he have been home while Val was dealing with a 'ornery client'. After all, the heaviest equipment the old tod worked with on the daily was a computer mouse or stylus. But with no expensive home security system, and without him able to be there at all hours to act as one, it left the vixen significantly more vulnerable, at least in his opinion.

While those prospects were promising, tempting even, they hadn't proven strong enough factors to push the vixen over the edge in her decision to stay on at the restaurant chain. The job was still painfully dull, and while she had admittedly developed a slight fondness for her co-workers, Vernon more so than her manager Gus, the larger monotony of the shifts always felt all-consuming and inescapable. Even with her phone to keep her company, the minutes seemed to just trickle by to the point where she had actually caught herself hoping that some idiot customers would show up in the hope that it actually might make time feel like it was moving a bit more briskly. Even what little entertainment she could draw out of flustering Vernon started to grow stale by the tail end of the second month, and with the wolf being largely buried in his college studies for a bulk of the shifts slow periods, a great deal of conversation would inevitably shift to the wolf's school work. A topic that, to the vixen made scrubbing toilets seem like high-class entertainment by comparison. 

Val could barely sit still most of the time, her normally casual and laid back nature being stymied by the inescapable quiet stillness and harsh fluorescent lighting filling her with a constant, low thrum of anxiety. It sat in the pit of her stomach, constantly pulsing and gnawing at her insides. It was a sensation that simply refused to leave until she had made it to the safety of her father's bark car at the end of her shift. She wanted to be doing something, anything else. Fixing a bike, lounging around the house, hell even hanging out with her co-workers anywhere else but at Bug Burga if it was the only alternative. But, she had to be there. She had to endure the debilitating boredom due to her little slip up with the ZPD. Spending most of her time just sitting there, waiting for a customer to show up. Staying any longer than three months, putting herself through more of that painfully dull drudgery of a job would surely have her stress shedding as badly as her old 'mam in no time. 

But what had ultimately made her stay was sort of a combination of factors that took place on what had been meant to be her final shift. On her last day, she had been ready and eager to leave. To march out of the restaurant with her head held high and a beaming smile plastered across her muzzle. She even considered giving Ol' Gus one last good scare and watching him freeze up and fall to the floor before heading out the door. It was something that always put a smile on her face since the day Vernon had accidentally let it slip that the older billy had a genetic 'fainting' disorder. One that proved far too entertaining for Val not to exploit at almost every chance she got. And considering it was her last day, what harm could one more for the road do? Luckily for her, Gus had shown up a few hours before her shift was scheduled to end, so the option remained on the table as the clock counted down the final minutes. 

The billy had spent a majority of his time going over paperwork and lamenting to both her and Vernon about the number of employees that would be leaving the restaurant within the next few weeks. A good portion of the day shift were students, and with the fall many of them would be returning to college for the year. Unfortunately for Val, the goat had been continuing to complain about the circumstance when her father arrived to pick her up. He was a good ten minutes early, and by that point Vernon had been used to letting the older tod in to wait out the last ten minutes and sometimes catch an early breakfast. And of course, the older fox had been well within earshot when he heard Gus once again whining about the major hit his workforce was about to take.

Cameron hadn't even stopped to quietly discuss the idea with Val before loudly suggesting to her manager that she might be interested in taking some of those open shifts on herself, something that caused Gus to immediately perk up, while at the same time earning a horrified and infuriated glare from the vixen herself. However, Cameron didn't even flinch in response, instead going on and on about how 'good it would be for her', that 'not only would she be helping herself out, but also her new 'friends', something Val was quick to scoff at. Val of course resisted. She argued that she had 'done her time'. There was no way she was wasting one more of her precious nights working in 'purgatory's favorite restaurant'. It was admittedly mildly entertaining to see Gus drop to his hooves and knees, begging the vixen to stay out of clear desperation. But it was ultimately a combination of parental guilt, coupled with Gus' promises to transfer her over to the day shift and to keep calling her in for a night shift a 'rare last resort' that would eventually see her reluctantly sign on to stay. That, and of course her father using the 'puppy dog' eyes trick on her, a trick she had spent years honing and using on the tod himself. Val couldn't help but be offended, disgusted even to see her father resort to such cheap tactics. That was her move, reserved for her use only. She was the one who was supposed to play dirty, and yet her goody-two pads of a father had ripped the page right out of her playbook and shamelessly used it against her. 

It was a part-time position, as it was before, and as Val insisted it would remain. With her private garage gig still in her back pocket, Bug Burga would act as her 'keeping up appearances' job. At the very least it would keep her father off her back about higher learning and life plans for the foreseeable future. It wasn't a clean win in Val's book, but at the very least her nights were once again her own, and more importantly, her side hustle had succeeded in getting Red back on the road, and in what Val believed to be in the best condition of its long and storied history since coming off the factory line. Of course, at that point she still had a few more months of waiting until she could legally drive again. But knowing that by next Summer, the vixen would once again laying claim to the old, beaten down roads of the back dunes was enough to keep the vixen's head held high. Despite working at the Bug Burga, the vixen had managed to get a tight grip on her life once again, and this time she was going to make damn sure she didn't let it slip through her paws once more. But as she would learn, having control of her own life would do little to prevent those closest to her from doing the same for themselves. And while Val had found stability in her own life, the winds of change began to bristle through her fur as it whipped around her, passing her by as the other mammals in her life walked along with it.

High school graduation was practically a blur to the vixen as she thought back to it. Her grades had never been stellar, not that she had ever really cared about that sort of thing. Shop class had been the only 'class' that had ever been able to hold her interest, but one exceptional grade did little to distract from the rather lengthy list of borderline failing marks that had graced nearly every report card she had brought home since entering high school. She had just barely managed to squeak by in terms of actually graduating, and had it been just about her, she wouldn't have even cared to show up for the ceremony. It was for Ellie's sake, at least primarily. Obviously, her father would never let her get away with not showing up to her own graduation regardless of whether the possum was in the picture or not. But it was hard not to be happy for her 'sister' considering how proud she was of her accomplishment. While not making valedictorian, she had still finished at the top of the year’s class with high honors, and considering Ellie's background, her achievements served as a powerful success story in terms of overcoming diversity and hardship. The kind of success story that was set to open doors for Ellie. Doors that as it turns out, Val wasn't entirely happy to watch her walk through.

Ellie was a sister to her, even if she hadn't exactly been formally adopted by the family. She was the only mammal Val could admit she truly cared about, second only to her father. She wanted to see her happy. To see her follow her dreams just as much as Cameron did. But the vixen hadn't really considered what that would mean for their odd little family unit, not until the discussions of grants and scholarships grew farther and farther away from Zootopia as the summer stretched on. From the finest art school in Zootopia, to the finest in North Mammalia, until finally, the possum was offered a scholarship from what most mammals considered the finest art school in all of Animalia, the Prench academy of Fine Arts. 

Just the prestige of the name alone, of having even been offered a chance to step foot in the place would offer Ellie the opportunity to do anything she could have dreamed of career-wise. And they were offering free room and board. Ellie would have been a fool to pass it up, and despite how much it pained Val to urge her sister to 'go for it' and leave her and Cameron for a school an ocean away, she wasn't going to kneecap Ellie's dreams for her own selfish reasons. It was a tearful goodbye, mostly on Cameron's side of course, but the vixen found it hard not to shed a few tears of her own as she gripped Ellie in a vice-like hug at the airport gate. Ellie promised through tears of her own that she'd always come back for the holidays and summer, and that she'd call the pair of foxes every day. Trying to sound tough despite her tears, Val gave her what had become something of the Vulpes family motto, 'no promises' as she forced a weak smile to her muzzle, a smirk that at the very least had earned a matched, yet earnest one from the possum. It had hurt so bad to let Ellie free of her grasp, even more so to watch her walk through the entry gate, waving Val and her father a final goodbye before disappearing through it. Three months minimum, that's how long her first semester would keep her busy. Three months without her “Ellie Vanillie” to hang out with, to crack jokes with. In that moment, Val found herself thinking that she would have rather taken on three months of night shifts at the Bug Burga if it meant having her best friend to come home to when she was done. But this was something Ellie had to do, and Val would be damned if she was going to do anything but support her sister's dream.

However, with Ellie gone there was a feeling of darkness that now hung Vulpes house, a gloom that Val hadn't remembered feeling anything close to since the loss of her mother. It had spread and seeped into every corner of the home, an inescapable air of depression that only seemed to deepen as Cameron became increasingly, noticeably withdrawn. Of course, Val was used to the older fox being somewhat of a recluse in terms of having a 'personal life'. He had never been the type to go out to a bar, or a club, and as Val grew into adulthood their little family trips and outings grew less and less frequent as she became increasingly resistant to taking part in 'cutesy family crap' as she put it. Family dinners had been rare even when Ellie was in the house, but without her they had all but ceased, Val electing to take her meals in the garage while Cameron would take his in his office. The emotional gap between the pair was noticeably widening, and the vixen would have been lying if she said she hadn't been slightly concerned. As much as a dork as her dad was, as uncool and geeky as he could be, she still loved the old tod. And while Ellie was out blossoming in Prance, Val was watching her father wither at home, for reasons Val couldn't be entirely sure of. At least that was until the “Zootopia's Last Night” incident.

Just days before, she and her father were dealt a particularly painful blow to their already strained household with the news that Ellie would be staying in Prance for Summer break. It was part of an exclusive internship gig, and with a limited window of opportunity to accept it before it would be gone forever. Ellie, being her usual timid and nervous self, had asked Val and Cameron whether she should accept it or not. Whether Ellie was ultimately looking for an out, looking for someone to tell her to come home Val was unsure, but like her father, she knew telling her to skip out on the job would have done her sister a huge disservice. So despite how much they missed her, or how much it hurt to advise her to go for it, the pair ultimately encouraged her. Val could still remember how acrid the forced words of support had tasted as she urged her sister to take the job. Summer plus the fall semester meant at least six months without having Ellie around, an almost criminally long amount of time. But once again, Val was not going to be the one to clip Ellie's wings for her own selfish reasons, and neither was her father apparently as he feigned an equal amount of supportive enthusiasm until the call ended.

Had that been the worst the week had to offer Val, it would have already been more than enough for the vixen to deal with. But it seemed that fate had pulled out all the stops in terms of doling out setback after setback for her. 

It had barely been two days since Ellie had called with the bad news when Val found herself suddenly, unexpectedly unemployed. Of course, it hadn't mattered much at the time, at least at first. Val still had her side gig, and while business was on the slower side, with summer coming she had expected it to pick up with the uptick in street races. But even with that thought in the back of her mind it still hadn't prepared her for pulling up to work to find the place practically torn open from the inside out. She had arrived at almost the same time as Gus, although it appeared the goat had more of an inkling to what had happened than she had. Sure she heard about the attacks, but she hadn't heard they hit the restaurant she had worked at. Looking back, it should have been obvious they would go for that Bug Burga considering who was working there, but the whole scene had taken the vixen aback to some degree. Still, she did her best to play it off when casing the place and checking on her 'friends'. 

Poor dumb Vernon, the wolf had really gotten himself neck-deep in that mess. The vixen still couldn't recall ever seeing the wolf so tired and haggard-looking as when she strutted in on that day. It was enough to tug at her heartstrings ever so slightly. After all, while she didn't regard the wolf the same way she cared for Ellie or her father, she had gotten fairly close to him over their time working together on and off. And despite all the lurid teasing, the vixen came to see him a sort of an older brother, albeit it something she'd never admit aloud. It was that pang of sympathy, coupled with the lingering shock from the overall situation that had led the vixen to foolishly entrust the wolf with her prized possession. Even now, she still couldn't conceive exactly what she was thinking handing Ol' Red over to the frazzled, shell shocked wolf. The fact that he had pleaded with her to trust his judgment had completely caught her off guard. She was so used to seeing that wolf as simply dumb and aloof, she was comfortable with that version of Vernon. To see him so sullen, his tired eyes burning with an almost scary look of...determination? She simply hadn't been prepared to turn down that wolf, leaving her to hope that her snap decision would at least make for a quick path back to the goofy, aloof mammal she had known previously. Vernon knew how to ride bikes to some degree, she knew that. But she figured he'd just speed off somewhere and lay low. Heck, maybe that would have been the case had those cops not been so persistent. But still, thanks to that error in judgment, Red ended up taking an impromptu diving lesson in the canal district.

When Val arrived home that day, she was immediately pulled into a tight hug by her terrified father, Cameron already showing signs of stress shedding as he praised the gods that Val was safe and sound. He, like her, hadn't heard anything about her Bug Burga location being hit until he was preparing to go to work himself, and was terrified that she had been there during the attack. It was a perfect storm of a moment for Val, the months of growing distance between them coupled with her recent talk with Vern before handing off her motorcycle had left her feeling oddly vulnerable, shaken even. And it was when Cameron tearfully admitted praying to Val's mother as he squeezed her, the vixen felt the dam give way.

Hugging the older tod back as tightly as she could, the vixen felt her usual mask begin to slip. Tears flowed from her glimmering blue eyes as she found herself apologizing for everything, even things she hadn't actually done as she buried her face into his neck. She clutched her father's shirt tightly in her fists as she admitted just how much she missed Ellie, as well as how things had been before. She even found herself admitting that she missed their dorky family outings and vacations. She had just wanted things to feel somewhat normal again, even if she knew they couldn't truly go back to the way they were.

She could feel Cameron's grip tighten as the older tod nestled his muzzle atop her head. He apologized for making her feel isolated, and as it had turned out, while Ellie leaving had hit him as hard as it had hit Val, it had also been a sobering moment for the older tod. It had made him realize his girls were well and truly grown up, and the time was coming for not just Ellie, but Val to spread her wings and leave the nest. It was something he knew was necessary, like Val had with Ellie's departure to Prance. And the thought remaining ever-present in Cameron's mind had been slowly weighing on him and drawing him into himself. Much like Val, it seemed Cameron didn't feel comfortable sharing his negative feelings with anyone but his closest relatives, and even then only under duress. Only in his case, it was out of fear of being a burden. 

As weird as it sounds, the vixen considered that interaction the only highlight of that day. The fact that Val and her father had both bled their emotional wounds together had helped them recover a degree of normalcy in their lives that both mammals needed, to dispel some of the darkness that had been hanging over the home since Ellie had left. The rest was filled with the ever-evolving news cycle about the high-speed chase and subsequent disappearance of Vernon and the sheep he was with. The fact that the 'chase' story was coupled with security camera footage of Val's bike careening into the canal didn't exactly help, especially with ZNN choosing to loop the video several times in succession.

Red hadn't exactly been totaled in the incident, but getting him back into working order would be no small feat. Once the ZPD had finally released the bike back into her custody after it was deemed 'no longer pertinent evidence' to the greater “Last Night” plot, the vixen was tasked with disassembling the entire bike, drying out what parts she could save, and using her nest egg of saved up cash to replace the parts that were totally unsalvagable. Of course Vernon was hyper-apologetic, promising he'd pay her back in full for all the damage he had done to her precious Red. But having worked alongside the wolf, Val was well aware of how criminally small their paychecks were, and that wasn't counting what she presumed the wolf paid out for tuition and rent, worries the vixen didn't have. Needless to say, she couldn't afford to wait on the wolf to get Red back on the road, instead agreeing to a payback plan that she anticipated would take years for the wolf to pay off.

Despite the magnitude of the work at paw, Val as always was no slouch. And while it took a few sleepless nights of nearly constant work, It didn't take long to have her faithful steed up and running once more. With her hard work and talent, once again Red would rise from the ashes like a phoenix. And in that time Val would see the return of family dinners and other quality time that both Val and her father hadn't realized they had so desperately needed. 

It had only been about a month ago when Gus reached out to Val about her current job. Another clerk stint, but nothing involving food thankfully. Apparently, the billy had given up on the fast-food chain, following his own dreams of running some sort of nerd shop. Of course, it did take some convincing to get the vixen on board. While the “Last Night” had caused a noticeably significant drop in private repairs, presumably due to the uptick in ZPD patrols stifling street racing, she had started to get used to life living solely on her side gig, and returning to some sort of 'on the books' wage job was seemingly less and less desirable as the days went by. But at the very least it would do a decent job of both easing her father's own separation woes while also making him think the vixen had some sort of plan in motion for her own life. A path to her own 'dream' much like Ellie's and Gus', even if hers was nothing more than a sham. 

That was how Valerie Madison Vulpes had found herself in this surprisingly large store filled with a nauseating amount of geek paraphernalia, the place still smelling like a musty attic despite how fresh and clean everything looked. The vixen leaning on her paw, staring off at nothing in particular as she reflected on her past. Val let out a bored sigh, her coif of hair bouncing on the tip of her nose as she exhaled dully.

Working at “Shatterhorn's Table Top Gaming” was fairly boring for the vixen, though thankfully not as boring as the old night shifts at Bug Burga. Plus, the position came with significantly more perks, at least in her eyes. For one, she didn't have to actually cook anything, or handle any sort of greasy, inedible foodstuffs. On top of that, there was no shortage of comfy couches to lounge around on whenever the store wasn't particularly busy, or if she just felt like it. And hey, the store was even crammed with several vending machines, all filled with foodstuffs that were considerably higher end when compared to the slop Bug Burga served. All prepackaged and factory sealed, and totally free to employees, a policy Val abused heavily. To her, it was sort of a step up from the old restaurant, albeit not a huge one. There was still the major drawback of getting leered at by weird, socially inept nerds trying to muster the courage to ask her out on a date. Apparently, this was something Gus had chosen not to warn her about before offering her the position, and something he would later admit had actually been part of his plan to draw in more customers from the onset. He had likened her position as the store's 'nerd bait' to serving a similar purpose to the vending machines, to keep the customers in the store and spending. Val would have found herself almost disgusted by the idea of being used as though she were a piece of meat on a hook if she hadn't found herself oddly impressed with Gus' clever business practices.

When it came to putting off the dorks that ambled into the store looking to bed a vixen, she did try to use some degree of restraint in shooing them off. While they tended to annoy her, she had spent enough time in her life around the dorks and outcasts of Zootopia to know how they thought to some degree. Her father and Ellie were total dorks, as well as Gus and Vernon and so on. So it did make her feel a pang of sympathy to the shier mammals that approached her, however slight though it was. The vixen was well aware that if she were to shut down someone like her sister as severely and cruelly as she was actually capable of, it would have traumatized her, more than likely preventing her from ever being able to build up the courage to ask any mammal out on a date for the rest of her life. Even with the more persistent types, Val would do her personal best to dial her fury down to something closer to a five on the 'piss-off' scale rather than go in guns blazing. Instead, she would bottle up that building irritation and quality material, saving it for the particularly cocky, overconfident types. The ones who waltzed, or rode into the store on their obesity scooter stinking like a pair of wet, moldy socks that had been left at the bottom of a gym locker for several decades while somehow believing it to be an 'alluring musk'. Those who didn't even have the courtesy to try and pretend to at least be shopping for something before coming up to the counter and coming on to her. It was those mammals that she reserved the most delightful 'scenes' for, making sure everyone in the store had their attention drawn to Mister Catsanova as she gave him a thorough dressing down, delighting in every second as her mark struggled to keep up with her back and forth before ultimately crying to Gus to get her fired.

Unfortunately for them, Gus didn't care much for those types of customers himself and was more than happy to allow Val free reign in terms of driving them out of the store. From his perspective, whatever revenue that could have come from the larger purchases those 'whales' as he called them tended to make, were entirely mitigated by the amount of customers they drove out of the store with their 'charming personalities' and distinct lack of personal hygiene.

Of course, the vixen had never deemed dating any of the customers entirely out of the question. Although she had only been working at the shop for a little under two months, she had seen a surprising amount of mammals come in that were actually normal looking. Even some, she could argue to herself were good looking, too good looking to be into the kind of crap they were buying anyway. Still, regardless of their rather embarrassing interests, the vixen allowed herself to be somewhat open to the possibility that a mammal who actually thinks it's fun to shop at Shatterhorn's might be capable of making a convincing enough argument for the vixen to give them a real shot. After all, there had been a few mammal's that had surprised her well enough to earn a brief stint in the sack, some doing a better job than...others...

Val shuddered as she thought back to her first repair job and the caracal that had commissioned it. Despite doing an impressively decent job at pissing her off when they first met, the feline had proven to be a pretty cool guy. He may have had a terrible taste in bikes of course, but his flub of an introduction had proven to be a one-off in regards to his character. The vixen of course had never been one to let the species barrier get in the way of a possible fun night. There were so many different mammals in Zootopia, too many in fact. So many flavors out there for her to sample in order to find her personal favorite 'taste'. She had even given other girls a whirl with the help of Ellie when they were a few years younger. Of course, that experiment had ended with both coming to the conclusion that they were decidedly straight mammals. But the experience had still left Val a plethora of males in all shapes and sizes for Val to sink her teeth into, and Arin had been one of the lucky few she had decided to take for a 'test drive'. Unfortunately for the vixen, the experience had proven to be anything but pleasurable.

Why Arin had never seen fit to have his 'barbs' lanced as most felines did in their teenage years, the vixen would never know. When she had asked him about it, he quickly became defensive, evading her simple question as much as he could and ultimately never giving her a straight answer. It made it very clear to the vixen very fast that there was definitely some baggage there. Still, Val wasn't one to back down from something challenging without at least giving it a try, a try that lasted for all of one 'debatably' good rut before the vixen was totally over it. Despite his small size, the painful raking of his spines inside her was a turn off at the least, and too painful to actually derive any pleasure out of on her end at most.

Of course, of the few guys she'd been with, Arin still hadn't been her worst lay...

The vixen's eye's listed lazily off to the side and downward, catching a glimpse of her most recent and disappointing one night stand as he pulled out a number of booster pack boxes for a bunch of card games Val hadn't cared to remember the names of.

Lewis Mustgrave stacked several small cardboard boxes in his rather short arms, doing his best to balance them as he rose to his feet. The diminutive otter let out a slight sigh as he arched his back to better stabilize his load, awkwardly reaching one of his arms over the stack in order to adjust his rectangular, black-framed glasses before quickly slipping it back under the stack in his grip. Unlike Val, the otter had been an 'in-store' hire rather than a transplant from the old Bug Burga employee roles. His 'knowledge' of geeky garbage had impressed Gus enough to take him on alongside the vixen, as well as going so far as to invite him to his little 'nerdy game sessions' that went on in the backroom once or twice a week. Gus even let little dweeb take part in sessions during store hours on occasion, essentially paying Lewis to have his version of 'fun' with the 'big billy' and the rest of his dorky crew while the vixen was left to work the counter. And while Gus had advised her several times not to bug them during said sessions unless it was an emergency, the vixen took great delight in disrupting their sessions and eating their food whenever she felt like. It was only fair for her to get a taste of Lewis perks for being forced to cover his shifts after all.

Lewis turned his attention to the vixen smirking down at him, flashing her a dull, half-lidded gaze as he struggled to maintain his equilibrium. The otter let out a tired sigh.

“Ah yes, that shit-eating grin I know so well. Let me guess, that 'sparkling wit' of yours has deluded you into thinking you've got some funny commentary for me? ” Lewis asked, a hint of irritation in his voice as he spoke. “No, please, please, what's on your mind? I'm dying to know...” The otter added, with a sarcastic emphasis dripping from the word 'dying' as he uttered it.

Val smirked. “Just thinking about how much of a limp noodle you were in bed.” The vixen replied with a chuckle.

Lewis rolled his eyes.

“Funny to hear coming from Miss 'Size Queen',” Lewis muttered his rebuttal.

The vixen let out a sarcastic cackle. “Miss Size Queen?” She asked, placing a paw to her chest as she feigned a look of offense. It was a short-lived expression, one that quickly gave way once again to Val's signature smug grin.

“Dude, I don't think there's an otter alive you could please with that micro-dick.” Val snickered. “Maybe you'd be able to please a mink?” She continued. “A ferret? At least something more...in ratio to your size.”

“Why don't you go make time with some big dumb rhino then.” The otter scoffed, taking a tentative step away from her as the boxes wobbled slightly in his grasp. “The kind of thing one would expect from your typical slutty vixen type.”

Val furrowed her brow at his biting reply, sneering for the briefest of moments before a devious idea suddenly popped into her head, replacing her smirk just as quickly as it had withered away. 

As Lewis went to take his next step, Val quickly stamped her foot onto the otter's tail, causing him to fall face down into the stack of boxes he was carrying, the cardboard crunching loudly as he face-planted into the pile. Some of the boxes buckled under the impact, spraying a few stray packets of cards out in all directions as Val struggled to stifle her giggling.

Lewis wearily perked his head up, taking a moment to adjust his glasses before leveling a searingly hateful glare in Val's direction.

In response the vixen raised her arms defensively, rolling her eyes as she pretended to look innocent.

“Geeze, you okay squirt?” Val asked, doing her best to keep just how amused she was from seeping into her tone. “Those stubby little legs of yours trip you up again?” Val shook her head, feigning disappointment. “Tsk, tsk tsk. All this time and you otters still haven't gotten your land legs...”

Lewis opened his muzzle, his whiskers twitching slightly as he seemed to be readying a rather biting rebuttal to the vixen's act. But the words never came. Instead, his muzzle simply hung open for a few moments before ultimately snapping shut, the otter letting out an audible huff as he leaned up on his knees and began collecting the assortment of spilled booster boxes and stray packs.

“It's not worth it...” Lewis muttered, in a voice so low the vixen could barely make it out. “Just two more hours and I'll be as far away from her as possible.”

With that, the little otter rose to his feet, carrying off the damaged boxes to one of the aisles and promptly disappearing from Val's line of sight, leaving the vixen to snicker to herself.

In truth, it wasn't really Lewis' size that was a let down for the vixen, more so that he had no 'A-Game' to back it up with. Perhaps the videos she'd seen online of otter's rutting a variety of other mammals had set her expectations too high. She had heard from multiple reliable sources that otters were all muscle in terms of body form. Hard, rugged, made to please on every level. But perhaps that translated better to female otters rutting with larger mates. It would have certainly made a good explanation on why the latter category was so much more substantial than the former. But even that alone could have been tolerable if the mammal had known anything about foreplay. Once he had 'gotten his', the limited effort he had put in at the start had completely evaporated, forcing Val to finish the job herself. To her, that was an unforgivable sin, and so for as long as she worked alongside the otter, she vowed to make sure to never let him forget it. At the very least she hoped it might compel him to improve for the sake of whatever unfortunate female he managed to get his claws on in the future.

“Val!” The sudden, loud utterance of her name had the vixen's ears standing at attention in an instant, her head quickly snapping to the source of the sound coming from the front of the store. Standing in front of the 'community' corkboard was her manager Gus, the gangly billy with the recently installed prosthetic horn to replace his naturally deformed one, along with one of his equally nerdy, although shorter sheep friends.

“What did I tell you about disturbing you co-workers in a manner that puts our products at risk?” The goat scolded.

Val offered her boss a somewhat sly smile. “That I should only do it when you aren't around to see it?”

Gus let out a tired sigh. “Some of those booster packs could have cards in them up to five hundred dollars.” The billy gestured to Lewis as he approached, the otter still struggling to balance the now damaged boxes in his paws. “You know how our customers are about their collectibles. If they pull one of those big cards and it's creased or bent I'll never hear the end of it.” Gus shook is head. “Last think I need is our stores Yip page bombarded with negatives reviews.”

“I'm glad you care more about the product than your employees.” Lewis interjected sarcastically. “What about all the harassment I have to endure from that she-devil on a daily basis?”

Gus rolled his eyes. 

“Okay, should I fire you too?” The goat said bluntly.

Lewis let out a huff. “Whatever.” He grumbled, before toddering off behind the nearest aisle with his tower of cargo.

Turning his attention back to the bulletin board, the goat held up a sheet of paper to it before pressing a large stainless steel staple gun to one of it's corners before firing it with an almost ear-splitting crack.

Val's smirk returned. She could smell the potential amusement in the air. 

“Hey herbs. What'cha doin'?” The vixen asked, her mischievous grin widening as she eyed the pair.

Gus let out a rather tired sigh as he slid the stapler to the other corner of the page and fired it again. With his task apparently complete, he finally turned his attention back to the vixen at the counter, flashing her a half-lidded, disinterested stare.

“Not that you'd care...” The billy started, lolling the staple gun in his hoof lamely as he spoke. “But I'm trying to recruit a new, semi-reliable member for my regular BnB gaming group.”

Val's grin grew even larger, the vixen showing off her fangs momentarily before rolling her eyes.

“You're right. I don't care.” The vixen chuckled, jerking her head back slightly in order to lazily shift her coif out of her eyes.

Gus let out an annoyed huff, the billy opening his mouth as if he had a rebuttal at the ready, but it was cut short by his diminutive companion.

“You really sure you want to bring a new mammal into the gaming group?” The sheep piped up, shrugging as he spoke. “I mean, it's going to be awkward working a new guy into the group, even if he knows what he's doing.”

Val didn't really know much about “Broomie”, the ram that had drawn Gus' attention away from what could have been a fun little back and forth. In fact, she only knew three things about the hornless ram for certain. One, Broomie wasn't his first name, but the vixen hadn't cared enough to remember his actual first name. Two, he had been friends with Vernon and Gus since at least as far back as high school, maybe even longer. And three, the ram was currently dating a rather massive and intimidating looking she-wolf with a thick Grrrussian accent that Val had yet to build up the courage to take a stab at teasing. Unlike Vernon, the vixen was pretty sure that wolf could snap her in half without even breaking a sweat, and not in the fun way either.

“Lewis managed to integrate just fine,” Gus replied, glancing over his shoulder briefly back toward the counter. Val quickly turned her gaze down, pulling out her phone to act as a cover as she kept an ear pointing at the billy's conversation.

“Ain't that right Lewis?!” Gus raised his voice slightly, his gaze shifting toward the shelving.

“If it's about overtime shifts, no thanks!” Came a reply from somewhere behind the racks of card game paraphernalia. “You'd have to put a gun to my head.”

Val covered her muzzle with a paw, trying to stifle a laugh as she kept her eyes vaguely focused on her phone. Now she remembered why she had even given Lewis a shot with her in the first place.

“Says you,” Broomie muttered quietly. “But I wouldn't exactly call him a 'Ruminerd' just yet, y'know?” 

Gus levied a rather skeptical expression at the ram, which caused Broomie to raise his hooves defensively.

“Hey, hey, don't give me that look, you know it's not a pred thing!” Broomie replied nervously. “I mean Vern's a pred, and I'm even dating a pred!”

“Ah, the old 'Some of my best friends are preds' defense,” Gus replied shaking his head. “Honestly, I thought you were above that sort of prejudice Dylan.”

Broomie furrowed his brow, letting out a derisive snort.

“Don't even joke like that Mam'.” The ram shook his head, placing his hooves on his hips. 

“I just mean...y'know...” Broomie began to fumble with his words, the ram seemingly struggling to figure out just how he wanted to say whatever was on his mind. “We all have history, y'know?” The ram finally managed. “You, me, Vern, Joel, Mellie...” Broomie sighed. “Claire when she still hung out with us.”

“Well, distance tends to break up tightly knit friend groups,” Gus muttered, turning his attention back to the flier for a moment, running a hoof across it in an apparent effort to better flatten it against the board. “ Distance, life responsibilities...” Gus rolled his eyes, letting out a soft snort. “And the fact that some of us can't get over that the guy they were crushing on fell for another ewe.”

That reply had caused Broomie to wince slightly. Whoever this 'Claire' was, it seemed that her departure was still a sore spot for the group at large.

Gus shook his head, gesturing to the flier with his stapler. “What would you have me do Dylan? Do I either seek out some new blood to help keep the group together or let it die a slow, painful and withering death?”

“Th-that's a bit dramatic, don't you think?” Broomie replied.

“It's true though...” The goat replied. “Mammals start leaving the group for one reason or another, and with no new players to come in it becomes easier for those of us left to just give in to passing up BnB because it seems less and less worth putting in the effort for.” Gus sighed, offered a rather weak shrug. “Besides, you don't build a history with folks out of nowhere. We were all the new guy once, even you Brooms” The billy chuckled.

“But Gus-” Broomie spoke up.

“Look, I'm pinned to the wall here,” Gus interjected, cutting the sheep off as he gestured more frantically to the flier with both hooves. “I'm as pinned to the wall as this flier! This is a desperation move mam'!”

Broomie looked like he wanted to speak, but Gus didn't seem ready to give him the chance.

“I can't afford to keep postponing this campaign until everyone has consistently free Saturday nights!” The billy continued. “I've already pushed it back as much as I feasibly can.” The goat huffed. “But now with Joel's little trip to Japanda going from a two-week excursion to a three month or longer-term stay,” Gus continued, his already intense glare sharpening as it fixed on the diminutive ram. “And with you and Vernon becoming consistently flakier due to your relationships-” the billy's tone had more of an edge as he uttered the word 'you' as opposed to Vernon's name. “I need the extra security.” Gus crossed his arms defensively. “I need at least two mammals aside from myself at these games in order to move the planned story along at the necessary pace, and I can't exactly do that if I'm just leading Lewis around.”

“Why don't you just do a Snipe call or something?” Val interjected, dropping the facade that she wasn't in fact eavesdropping momentarily. “That's how I keep in touch with my sister in Prance.“ The vixen offered the mammals a halfhearted shrug. “You could probably play a game that way, right?”

Gus flashed the vixen a dull glare.

“I'm sorry, did I ask for your input there Honest Jane?” The goat replied, raising his staple gun in her direction and firing off a round. They both watched as the miniature metal clamp flew about a foot away from the gun before harmlessly dropping to the ground.

“I thought you didn't care anyway, so just bury your nose back into that phone of yours like you usually do when you're supposed to be working.” The billy added, making threatening yet empty gestures with the stapler gun. “Go on, Scram!”

Val let out a huff, more to blow her coif of hair out of her eyes once more as she went back to pretending to send texts on her phone, her ear remaining tuned to the goat and rams conversation.

“It's not the worst idea.” Broomie murmured quietly.

“Ha.” Val laughed smugly, earning a quick glare from Gus before he turned back to his friend.

“Look, I already considered that,” Gus admitted. “But the time zones are just too different to line up properly.” The billy rubbed the back of his neck uneasily with a free hoof. “Besides, if I'm going to go through that much trouble, to be honest, I'd just prefer he be here in the flesh for the session anyway.”

“Sounds like someone's just being picky...” Val murmured, her eyes never leaving her phone as she fiddled with a dull puzzle game.

“Could you please-!” The goat hissed, flashing the vixen a death glare that had about as much of the intended effect as having a kit try and scare an adult. Val simply smirked, causing the billy's glare to quickly falter as he let out an exasperated sigh. “Just, do something! Something that keeps you out of this conversation!”

Despite Gus' clear irritation and annoyance with the vixen, out of the corner of her eye, she could see the diminutive ram sizing her up for a moment before a look of inspiration seemed to strike him like a thunderbolt.

“What about taking on one of your other employees. I mea-” 

Gus flashed him a hateful sneer, his yellow eyes practically slits as he glowered at his diminutive friend. “I swear on sweet Cervidwen's hooves if you finish that sentence I will butt you out of this store. I won't even hesitate.”

Val chuckled softly.

“The fact that you hate the idea so much makes me almost want to play.” The vixen said with a wide grin. She had easily picked up on what Broomie was suggesting. Val leaned both elbows on the counter, flashing her boss her 'winning smile'.

“But luckily for you my distaste for that nerdy crap is just a bit more intense than my love of tormenting you.” The vixen admitted.

Gus' head sank, the billy shaking his head for a brief moment as he placed a hoof to his temple.

“Why did I even offer you this job again?” The goat murmured before straightening back up. The billy let out a loud sigh, one so exaggerated it made his nostrils visibly flare. “I had my out, and I welcomed the 'Crimson Devil' back into my life with open hooves.”

“Love you too Buh-buh-Buddy...” The vixen said with a wink, playfully mimicking a bleating stutter.

With a soft jingle, the entrance door suddenly swung open as a large bull moose rolled in a stack of boxes, each labeled with the familiar logos and brands of the various foodstuffs that filled the vending machines. The vixen knew him as the delivery and maintenance guy, but that was pretty much all she knew of him. In fact, the only reason she could tell him apart from the other delivery mammals who came by the store was his notable lack of horns. It was always a rare sight to see a horned mammal who shaved down his headgear. Even if it did make getting in and out of stores a hell of a lot easier, a cervid or caprid's antlers were a lot like a fox's tail. They were an important, symbolic thing, especially to males, as the mammal with the biggest and well-maintained set was seen as prime dating material. An alpha among males. But that didn't seem to bother this moose in the dowdy grey jumpsuit in the slightest. Or if it did, he certainly never showed it in their store.

“Well, what about him?” Broomie asked, pointing to the moose as he was checking his clipboard. The moose stopped scribbling, glancing down at the diminutive mammal who was gesturing to him.

“You don't hate him, and he technically works here right?” Broomie asked, pointing at the moose directly. “And hey, he looks like the BnB type. You'd be better off getting him to join us then open things up to the general public.”

The moose furrowed his brow quizzically, turning his attention to Gus as he handed off his clipboard and pen.

Taking the pen in his hoof, Gus pointed the tip back up at the lumbering moose.

“Oscar here isn't technically an employee.” The goat said, swirling the point of the pen around for a moment before he began to scribble on the pad. “We have a neat little arrangement. Our storage room makes a convenient place for his employees to store their cleaning supplies, and we get free cleaning to boot.” Gus continued. “Not to mention Oscar knows mammals. The kind of mammals who were able to get that mess of a situation with the pipes in the basement under control for dirt cheap.”

Signing off the last of the sheet, the goat handed the clipboard back to Oscar, patting one of the boxes with his hoof. “And of course, super cheap name brand vending machine snacks.”

“It is the least I could do,” Oscar replied, placing the clipboard under his arm as he propped the dolly load of boxes back onto its wheels. 

“Least? Hell, I'm the one getting the deal here.” Gus replied with a smirk. “Which is why I wouldn't think fair to ask him to join or little BnB game group, as I ask enough of him already.”

The moose chuckled. “The game was never my strong suit.” He replied with a smirk. “And I'd need to be paid competitive rates to give up the work hours. Saturday nights are some of my busiest.” He added, before wheeling the cart of boxes off toward the nearest vending machine.

“Exactly, and why would I pay someone to play a game for hours and hours that are supposed to be purely for fun?” The goat scoffed. “Just because I own a store now doesn't mean I'm made of Zbucks over here.”

The vixen furrowed a brow at the billy's statement, making a mental note to throw his words back into his face the next time she decided to amble into the back room during one of their store hour gaming sessions that included her co-worker.

“Fine, whatever...” Broomie grumbled in defeat. “I'm just throwing stuff out there...didn't need to square up horns with me over it, geez.” The ram added, crossing his arms and averting his gaze from the billy. Val watched from the corner of her eye as Broomie seemed to take on the posture of a pouty kit, twisting a hoof against the rug as he continued to silently grumble to himself for a few moments. Gus seemed quick to pick up on the ram's change of demeanor as well, his eyelids drooping to half-mast as he crinkled his snout at the smaller mammal.

“Oh, what is it now?” Gus snapped, his patience clearly worn through at this point.

Broomie let out a huff.

“Well...” The ram mumbled. “You gave that really pissed of glare when you mentioned how me and Vernon were 'too busy' with our mates...” He snorted. “ Like what I was doing was somehow worse than Vernon, even though he was doing the exact same thing.”

The billy rolled his eyes. “By Hornunnos, this ram...” He uttered with a sigh. “I can't believe you are still on that.”

“I'm just saying I don't deserve a look like that when Vern's equally as guilty mam'.” Broomie continued to whine. “I guess I know who your best friend really is.”

“Vernon has just started at a new job, an important one considering Mayor Snow was the one who got him the position.” Gus chided, wagging a finger at the diminutive ram. “Not only that, but Vernon's mate is a semi-successful author who more than likely is staring down the barrel of a massive amount of publicity touring once the hard copy of her book drops. Tours that Vern is more than likely going to have to go on with her as he's technically the co-author.”

Gus lamely pointed the stapler at Broomie.

“By comparison, you have way less change going on in your life.” The billy added, glaring at Broomie once more. “And I don't see your schedule growing as chaotic as Vernon's in the near future. So yeah, I'm gonna cut the mam' a bit more slack. Deal with it.” Hus concluded with a derisive snort.

Broomie's arms remained firmly crossed, the sheep letting out another stream of grumbles.

“I mean...Talia has me exercising a lot.” The ram finally managed. “It leaves me kinda...too sore to play most of the time!”

Gus rolled his eyes, letting out a long, tired sigh as he leaned his head against the cork-board in frustration.

“I'm so terribly sorry for asking you to come sit and relax here instead of in front of your computer or with your precious, precious comic collection.”

“Alright, first off you know as well as I do that BnB games can get intense!” Broomie replied with a snort. “And secondly, don't belittle my comic book collection. It'll be worth way more than this store someday.”

Gus let out a huff. “Look, I'm not asking you to carry the game here Dylan!” The goat retorted, his head remaining fixed against the corkboard. “I just need participation, otherwise all I'm doing is telling a story.”

“I just don't see why you’re getting your stomachs so twisted over this mam'.” Broomie bleated, uncrossing his hooves as he tried to strike a more casual posture. “I know you're tired of putting it off, but wouldn't it just be easier to postpone it till after the holidays?” The ram pleaded. “Things are only going to get more chaotic with everyone's schedules leading up to Yule, so why not just wait till after the new year?” Broomie asked. “You've waited this long to start this campaign, so what’re a few more weeks?”

“Because I've made Melly wait long enough as it i-!” The goat stopped himself just shy of finishing his sentence, his head still firmly resting against the cork-board as though it were glued to it.

Broomie titled his head slightly, furrowing his brow in mild confusion.

“So...this campaign is important to Melly?” The sheep asked curiously. “How so?”

Gus ran a hoof through his tousled mane of head fur before turning to address his friend.

“Look...I'm...” The billy cleared his throat. “ I wanted to keep this a secret as long as possible, alright?”

The mere utterance of the word secret had Val back to leaning over the table as she watched Broomie give his friend a brisk nod. The vixen was all ears, at least until both mammals looked in her direction, forcing her to fix her gaze back on her phone in an effort to hide her interest. Forget the amusement factor, the scent of possible blackmail was in the air now.

“I had it planned so that the very end of this campaign, allowing some wiggle room for sick days and unforeseen circumstances, would end on the night of mine and Mellie's anniversary.” The goat continued, now in hushed tones. Unfortunately not hushed enough for canine hearing despite what he may have believed.

“At this point, I'm almost entirely out of that window of flexibility for scheduling, and if I don't get at least one back-up mammal to get these sessions rolling within the next two weeks, my whole master plan is ruined.”

Broomie stared at him quizzically for a moment before a sudden flash of realization seemed to overtake the ram.

“Wait, your anniversary?” Broomie's eyes widened. “You don't mean you’re going to finally-!?”

Gus cut him off, nodding briskly while holding up a single hoof in order to 'shush' his friend.

“Yes!” The goat hissed.

For a brief moment, Broomie had the widest of smiles. The sheep grinning practically ear to ear.

“Gus, I can't believe you're gonna- I mean this is huge!” The ram sputtered. 

Gus held his hooves up, gesturing them downward a few times as he seemingly tried to signal his friend to stall the building hysterics, but that did little to calm Broomie, his smile now visibly wavering as tears began to form in his eyes. Dylan wiped away the start of a tear as he began sniffling.

“Aw Gus Mam', I'm so proud of you...” The sheep replied, clearly touched by Gus' intentions. “My little kid's finally growing up...”

Val stifled her laugh with a paw as she watched the scene.

Gus turned, flashing the vixen a scowl as he fired another staple in her general direction before turning his sneer on his diminutive friend.

“I hate when you call me a kid.” The billy snorted. “I mean, I'm older than you, the joke doesn't even work.”

Broomie tried to cover up his amusement with a hoof momentarily before his attention seemed to shift back to the gravity of Gus' plans.

“Well, at least now the rush makes more sense.” The ram admitted. “But two weeks?” Broomie hissed softly as he sucked in his breath through parted teeth. “Talk about a tight deadline.”

“Failure is not an option,” Gus replied, holding up a finger. “Come hell or high water, this campaign is going off without a hitch, and my Mellie is getting the proposal she deserv-!”

“Gussy?” 

Val could see what little color there was under Gus' fur drain at the recognition of his mate’s voice. The nanny now stood in the corner doorway of the store, her hoof still placed on the knob as she began to round the entrance.

Had the vixen not been aware that Melanie Gessenay was actually Gus' mate, the nanny goat would have probably been a dead ringer for his sister, or cousin, at least in Val's eyes. To be fair, most goats looked largely the same to the vixen, but the prospect of them being related added to her arsenal of crude jokes and teasing to levy their way. And unlike her mate, Melanie was somewhat decent at taking a joke, as well as keeping up with her.

Currently dressed in light blue yoga pants and a sleeveless tank, the nanny with the massively over-sized oval glasses and head fur pulled back into a ponytail began to make her way over to the group of mammals standing in front of the community board.

“A-And I mean the original star wolves trilogy is a bit over-rated, I mean honestly.” Gus barely managed to squeak out, turning his focus sharply to the diminutive ram to his side before 'smoothly' pretending to notice Melanie sidling up to them.

“O-oh hey Mellie.” Gus offered the nanny a meek smile.

Placing a hoof on her mate’s shoulder, Melanie leaned in, planting a soft kiss on Gus' lips.

“Gus, did you forget I was practicing my yoga or what?” Melanie said, leaning a hoof on her side as she cocked her hips. “I could hear you from our apartment you were being so loud.”

“You could hear us!?” Gus sputtered nervously, the goat's composure quickly faltering as visible terror overtook him. “W-What did you hear?”

Melanie giggled, a look of mild confusion crawling across her muzzle.

“Just you, yelling.” The nanny replied with a smirk. “I mean, it was all a muffled buzz, but I recognize your voice.”

Val could practically see the wave of relief wash over the billy as his previously tense stance seemed to slacken. Only now did Val realize much to her disappointment that she had totally missed a perfect opportunity to push Gus over the edge into a full faint.

“I know I can't really judge as I'm just as bad. But you said you'd at least try to keep the store quiet while I was practicing my stretches.”

Gus managed to force a laugh, bracing his neck with a hoof. “R-Right sorry...” The goat muttered. “M-Me and Broomie just got a little carried away about Star Wolves is all, right buddy?”

The billy nudged his friend, the ram still seemingly shell shocked for some reason. Broomie finally managed to furrow his brow, sneering slightly as he looked up at Gus.

“Dude, woah...” The sheep shook his head in disbelief.” What in the rut was that?”

Gus tilted his head slightly, a look of nervous confusion overtaking his features.

“Brooms? What?” Gus asked.

“I know you were reaching for something and all, but you can't just make a total dag munching statement like that and expect me to just roll with it.” Dylan snorted.

Melanie glanced at her mate skeptically, which only seemed to heighten his nervousness.

“N-Not now Broomie, c'mon-”

“Do you actually have a dags opinion like that? You really think the original trilogy is overrated!?” Val could see that Dylan was now clenching his fists as he stared daggers up at the billy. Gus took a step back, nervously eyeing his mate for a moment and offering a meek smile before turning back to the furious looking ram encroaching on him.

“I-I mean, no, of course not.” Gus admitted sheepishly. “I me-mean I just heard some stupid customer say it. I would never say that!” Gus managed to sputter. “I loved the original trilogy.”

Broomie continued to glare at his friend for a moment, nostrils flaring as he let out a rather sharp breath before finally backing down, the ram looking somewhat reassured by Gus' fearful reply.

Once again Val was doing her best to hide her amusement, barely able to contain her desire to laugh as she watched the shit-show unfolding before her.

“G-Good, good.” Broomie managed, slipping back into his previously relaxed posture. “ Cause If there is one thing I will square up horns to defend the honor of, it's the original Star Wolves trilogy. You should know that by now.”

By now Melanie had taken up a similar posture to Val, the nanny trying to stifle her own snickering with a hoof while using her other arm to support her elbow as she eyed her increasingly sweaty looking mate.

“What's with the staple gun?” Melanie finally managed to ask, gesturing to the boxy metal device in his hoof.

Gus raised his staple gun up, looking at it with a somewhat vacant gaze which gave off the impression that he had no idea what it actually was for the briefest of moments before the light bulb appeared to go off behind his eyes.

“O-Oh right!” Gus stammered, quickly shifting out of his mate's way before gesturing to the cork-board.

“I was putting up a flier.” The billy chuckled nervously as he spoke. “Trying to draw some new mammals in for my next BnB campaign.”

“New recruits eh?” Melanie asked, crossing her arms and flashing her mate a somewhat dubious expression. “Are you totally sure you want to bring a stranger into the group?”

Gus' previous nervousness seemed to evaporate slightly, giving way to mild exasperation as the billy let out a sigh. It seemed as though the billy was setting himself up to have the exact same conversation he had with his sheep companion just moments before all over again.

“I mean, I know I'm not gonna be able to make every session, but are we really that short on players?” Melanie cocked her hips once more as she eyed her mate with a look of mild concern.

“Remember the last mammal you brought in?” Melanie added, in a hushed tone.

Gus furrowed his brow in confusion. “Lewis? What's wrong with him?”

Melanie nodded. “He kinda gives me the creeps.”

“Thanks.” Came Lewis' voice from behind the aisle, causing Melanie to jump slightly. The nanny blushed slightly, slouching as though she were trying to hide herself to some degree.

“Thank you,” Broomie whispered in quiet agreement with Melanie's statement. “See, she gets it.” The ram added gesturing to the nanny as he eyed Gus sharply.

“And that's why you creep me out Lewis! I can't tell where you are half the time!” Melanie replied, chuckling nervously.

“Maybe if Gus would buy taller chairs for the gaming table, people would actually be able to see me!” The otter snapped back.

“Maybe if you'd just use the damn booster seat...” Gus muttered.

“Those are for pups! I'm not going to degrade myself by sitting in one!” Lewis replied, ire rising in his tone.

Gus rolled his eyes, letting out a snort. “Dawn doesn't complain about the booster seat, and she's a hero to the city.”

“I'd say the fact that she previously took a stab at becoming Zootopia's first dictator more than evens out her right to object to anything.” The otter replied.

Val did her best to keep her snicker from being audible, lightly pounding a fist on the counter to keep from breaking at the otter’s comments.

“Anyway, new players means more of a drive to keep up the sessions, right?” Gus turned his attention back to his mate, apparently choosing to ignore Lewis. “It'll reinforce confidence in the group, making everyone else less likely to flake.”

“But I mean, wouldn't it be easier to just wait till everyone else's schedules opened up more?” Melanie asked, adjusting her frames. “I mean, I know my weekend classes will be done after Yule, and I imagine everyone else will probably-”

“No, I have to start the new session now.” Gus cut her off. “ It's crucial that I get this thing off the ground before Yule or else my plans will be ruined.”

The billy went silent, his eyes widening as panic started to overtake him. Val could practically see the sweat seeping out of his fur as his mate began to eye him suspiciously, the nanny leaning in closer as she inspected him.

“What plans?” Melanie asked, her green eyes tightening as she scanned her mate.

Val leaned in intently, certain that the billy was more than likely about to faint of his own accord.

“I imagine he means his plan to drum up a little community around this place, yes?” Oscar interjected as he wheeled his dolly loaded with now-empty boxes alongside the pair of goats. The bull moose placed a hoof on Gus' shoulder, apparently breaking the trance of terror that had overtaken him. “Yule is a busy time of year after all. You'll probably get the most eyes on that flier now rather than later.”

“Y-Yeah!” Gus suddenly spat, giving Oscar's hoof a pat before offering his mate a strained smile. “Not only will we have the cream of the crop to choose from in terms of recruits, but it'll make our customers more aware of the fact that we'll be hosting games here.” The goat flicked his hooves in Melanie's direction as he prattled on. “That's positive word of mouth, and eventual customer retention and sales once we're ready to actually post the reservation time slots for the public gaming room.”

Melanie's gaze grew all the more scrutinizing as Gus find himself shrinking beneath it.

“I'm confused, exactly does advertising a slot for a private BnB session promote the store to mammals looking to form their own groups?” The nanny asked, squinting at the flier.” I don't see anything on there about the public game rooms at all.”

Melanie crossed her hooves, throwing Gus a rather skeptical gaze. “ And so after you pick out a guy or girl, what are they going to tell others in terms of positive word of mouth? That they are part of a private game at the store, but they'll be opening public games eventually?” The nanny continued. “And one mammal probably doesn't have a wide network to go all 'word of mouth' on right?” Melanie squinted slightly. “It seems like flawed logic to me.”

“W-Well...” Gus glanced up toward where Oscar had been, only to find the mysterious moose long gone, something that even had Val blinking in surprise. The vixen hadn't noticed him slip away either.

“Unless there's something you aren't telling me Gussy...” Melanie cooed, the sweetness in her tone barely masking the hint of menace beneath it as her glare grew ever closer to the rapidly shrinking billy.

Val began mentally counting down as all the tell-tale signs of one of the billy's faints began to show. It would be mere seconds now until she was sure he'd hit the floor with hilarious rigidity. 

“Three, Two...” 

“AwooooooOOOOoooo!” 

A sudden, loud, joyful howl echoed through the shop as a very familiar looking gray wolf made his way into the store, a modest stack of books balanced carefully on one arm as his other paw remained bracing the side of his muzzle.

The rather bombastic entrance of Vernon Hunter had vacuumed all of the building tension and drama out of the room in an instant, much to Val's ultimate disappointment. Once again, dumb old Vernon Hunter had spoiled her fun. Or was it Vernon Hunter-Bellwether now? The broad-shouldered country bumpkin of a wolf with the warm green eyes had supposedly had some sort of shotgun wedding involving that crazy ewe he had hitched himself up to at the start of the fall, and had for some reason decided it was a good idea to keep both last names. What his reasoning was the vixen was ultimately unsure, she hadn't exactly cared to listen to the nitty-gritty details of the whole sordid affair as the wolf was terrible at telling a story without getting to the point fast enough to keep her interest. But regardless, she'd probably still call him Vernon Hunter if she needed to use his last name. It was just less complicated that way.

“Howdy y'all!” Vernon chirped happily, his tail wagging at a mile a minute as he scooped a book from the top of his stack and shoved it into Gus' free hoof. In a matter of seconds, the wolf had forced a copy into the hands of his three friends before they could even utter a single word.

“W-what's this?” Gus finally managed to murmur as the wolf ambled his way up to the counter with the remaining stack of novels. Vernon leaned against the counter, propping himself up with an elbow as he smiled proudly in the direction of his friends.

Gus looked as equally confused as he was relieved, the wolf having apparently done well to dispel his growing impulse to faint.

“That wouldn't by any chance be related to the last down payment for Red's repairs that you owe me, would it?” Val said, leaning her head on her paws as she offered the large wolf her usually smug smirk. 

The wolf's proud smile faltered almost immediately, his relaxed posture withering as he turned to offer Val a nervous smile.

“I-I'll have it fer ya next week I promise.” The wolf chuckled uncomfortably. “With interest, I swear it.”

The vixen chuckled. “It's always 'I'll haaave it fur y'all next week.' with you” the vixen replied, deploying her terrible stereotypical southern drawl in her efforts to tease the big wolf. “Let's not forget I trusted you with my most prized possession, and you went and nearly totaled it!”

The wolf rolled his eyes, clearly tired of hearing the same shtick by now. But the way the wolf still bit his lip every time showed the vixen he still was harboring quite a bit of guilt over it, and that was always fun to exploit.

Val leaned back slightly, draping the back of her paw against her forehead as she feigned being slighted by Vernon's tardiness.

“Oh Vernon, and here I had come to see you as an older brother.” The vixen pouted, forcing her lip to quiver as she continued her 'dramatic performance'. “ Yet I barely ever see you anymore.”

“Val-.” The wolf tried to interject, but the vixen wasn't done. 

“Are you really going to start ghosting me like this just because you utterly wrecked my bike and promised to pay for the damages?” The vixen shook her head dismissively. “And here I took you for the honorable type.”

The vixen returned to leaning over the counter, flashing Vernon a wide, satisfied smirk.

“You're lucky the sex is so good or I'd actually start to feel slighted with you stringing that poor ewe along as a side piece,” Val added, her grin widening enough to flash her fangs.

Vernon flashed the vixen a dull, half-lidded glare, letting out an irritated huff.

“That ain't funny,” Vernon grumbled.

“Glad to see I can still get under that pelt of yours Big Guy.” The vixen replied with a chuckle. It managed to earn another scoff from the wolf as he crossed his arms defensively.

Vernon had been overly prompt with paying the vixen back, presumably using up a hidden nest egg of his to help get Red back on the road as quickly as possible after his little 'mishap' with her prized motorcycle despite the payback plan they agreed on. While still ultimately paying in installments, the wolf had paid back a bulk of the principle estimates way faster then Val had actually anticipated. And as of now, the wolf had already paid off the last of the repairs with his previous payment to her. But he had made the mistake of not asking the vixen for an itemized list of the prices for replacement parts, or even what parts actually needed to be replaced, and so the vixen had managed to weasel in one extra little payment bonus for herself. Sure it was shifty, shady, and everything one would expect of a fox, taking advantage of a friend's generosity like that. But for Val, it was fair enough game. In her mind, the additional payment was warranted for all the 'emotional duress' she had suffered thanks to nearly losing Ol' Red thanks to the wolf's ineptitude and poor judgment. 

Glancing up at the wolf and noting how quickly his mood had soured, the vixen's smile slipped slightly. His tail had been a grey blur of moment when he had thrown open the door, but now it sagged like a withering tree frond. 

“Keep the interest,” Val muttered with a sigh. Ineptitude or not, Vernon's friendship was still worth having, even if it meant forgoing the little extra cash she could have squeezed out of him. She could be heartless sometimes, but even she wasn't that heartless.

“Wait, is this?” Melanie muttered, running a hoof across the book jacket as a smile crawled across her muzzle.

Vernon's mood immediately turned around, his tail now billowing the vixen's coif of hair over her other eye as it began to wag furiously.

The large wolf gave a vigorous, happy nod.

“Uh-huh!” The wolf chirped excitedly.

“Can you..Pth...” Val sputtered, trying to block the wind from his tail with her arms.

Vernon glanced back momentarily before quickly backing away from the counter, rubbing the back of his neck as he offered the vixen a sheepish grin.

“S-Sorry.” The wolf uttered, before turning back to Melanie.

“Yep! Yer lookin' at the official hard copy!” The wolf added cheerily.

“I thought this wasn't dropping till tomorrow?” Broomie replied, carefully opening the cover and peering inside.

“It is,” Vernon replied, clapping his paws together. “But with Dawn bein' the author and all, we got a bunch of advanced copies to share with family and friends!”

The vixen threw a curious side-eye at the small stack of novels the wolf had left on the counter, leaning her cheek into her more dominant paw in order to free the other and reaching out to slip a copy of the stack. Settling it down in front of her, Val ran her sky blue eyes across the cover text. 

“Predator Seeking Prey” The vixen read in her mind, taking note of the rather odd, decadent wisps sticking out from various parts of the font. The words were spaced widely across the book, the word 'Predator” sitting high on the top, while “Prey” sat near the bottom. The word 'Seeking' was significantly smaller than the others, sitting dead center on the cover, and flanked by what looked like a Medieval depiction of a wolf chasing a sheep around the central word. 

“Written by Dawn Hunter-Bellwether and Vernon Hunter-Bellwether” Val continued to read, the credit sat just below the word Prey. As her eyes drifted back to the top of the book, she titled her head in mild confusion. From what she could tell, it looked as though the author's credit seemed to be listed once again above the word “Predator”, although it was upside down and backward.

“Woah, check this out!” Gus suddenly interjected, holding the closed book in the direction of Melanie and Broomie.

“Predator Seeking Prey.” Gus read the title from memory before flipping the book upside down. “Or Prey Seeking Predator?”

Val scrunched her muzzle in confusion before repeating the billy's actions, spinning the book around on the countertop. With a simple spin, the vixen now understood why the author credit had been repeated, as well as just what all those odd extra flourishes on the title fonts were for. The title of the book now read, “Prey Seeking Predator”, and the medieval drawings toward the center of the book now appeared to have the ewe chasing the wolf.

Vernon nodded excitedly.

“Proud to say I suggested the ambigram idea,” Vernon said, closing his eyes and smiling proudly.

“Not bad Sheep Dog.” Gus chuckled. “Not bad at all.”

“Can't take the dork out of the wolf eh?” Broomie added with a laugh of his own.

“Hey, I'll have you know Dawn was absolutely giddy over the idea.” The wolf retorted.

“She really is perfect for you, sheep or not,” Gus added with a smirk. 

“Nerdiness transcends species, my friend,” Vernon replied with a smirk.

“Wait, so these are for us?” Broomie asked, flipping a few pages into the book before glancing back up at the wolf.

The wolf flashed the ruminids a dull, half-lidded gaze.

“What Dy'all think 'advanced copy fer friends and family means'?” The wolf laughed. “Of course they're for y'all!” 

“That's kind of you Sheep Dog.” Gus added as he began to flip through some of the pages himself.

Vernon crossed his arms, smiling warmly as he leaned against the nearby wall.

“First Editions copies. And me and Dawn even signed 'em for ya.” The wolf said, flashing his fangs as he grinned. “Probably be worth a purty penny someday, although we hope y'all wouldn't sell 'em on us.”

“I've heard it's selling really well in digital,” Melanie murmured, the nanny's attention buried somewhere toward the later pages of the novel as she spoke. “Of course, I figured you guys might hand out hard copies so I did my best to keep from reading it until then.”

“It's number one in Amazoo's books section and it's only been out fur a week!” Vernon added happily. “And all them reviewers are just gushin' over how good it is!” 

The wolf lolled his head slightly, gesturing a paw at nothing in particular as he spoke. “I mean, there were a few negative reviews, but those was few and far between”

“Well, I don't think there's any book or movie or any kind of media out there that doesn't have at least a hoofful of bad reviews, no matter how good it is,” Gus said reassuringly. 

“Even the classics like the original Star Wolves trilogy,” Broomie added, earning a slight wince from Gus.

“Dawn's agents are already talkin' book signin's and tours and whatnot.” The wolf continued, closing his eyes comfortably as he crossed his arms once more. “I figure iffin' you want, we could even do one of ‘em here and help build-up yer business.” The wolf smiled. “I mean, iffin' it's as big a seller as they are projectin', it's guaranteed to bring in some serious sales fer ya.” 

“I appreciate that Vern.” The billy replied, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly and averting his gaze. “ But, I mean...” The goat trailed off, averting his gaze slightly. “I know I sell books at this store, but this isn't really a 'book store', y' know?” The billy managed to utter, cringing at his own words as Vernon's ears sagged slightly.

The wolf tilted his head in mild confusion.

“Y'all sayin' ya don't wanna sell it here?” Vernon asked, his tail starting to sag.

“Well, I m-mean..” The goat stuttered, looking increasingly uncomfortable as he struggled to let the wolf down gently. “I mean, this seems more like a romance novel y'know? Not really a....nerdy book.”

Vernon frowned, the wolf bracing the back of his neck with a paw.

“I mean-” Vernon shook his head softy. “Naw, naw yer right.”

The wolf shrugged weakly. “I'm sorry bud, I'm just a little over-excited is all. I'm just so proud of my Honey Lamb. She really did all the hard work and put her heart and soul into this thing and I-”

“His rough...dexterous claws maneuvered with an unexpected, yet welcomed grace. Trailing up my taut flesh with a degree of pressure that had me enraptured as he approached my breasts. It danced dangerously between titillation and torment as my breathing grew increasingly ragged.” Melanie interjected, the nanny seemingly reading straight from the book as spoke. “The way they danced on the buds of my nipples felt as though he were shooting electricity through the tips of his claws, yet I still craved more. My back arched in desperation, calling out to his muzzle, entreating it to suckle with his rugged....fangs...” Mellie placed a hoof over her muzzle, looking as though she were both trying to stifle a laugh as well as hide the very visible blush that had formed beneath her fur. “Gotta say, you're braver than me putting something like this in here. Wow.”

Val and Vernon's ears shot up immediately, although for entirely different reasons. While Val's muzzle was quick to curl in delight, she could see the color drain from under Vernon's fur, his tail freezing in place as he looked back to the group of caprids. The vixen leaned on her paws once again, glancing at the nanny expectantly and praying she would continue as her tail swished lazily from one side to the other. 'This day just keeps getting better and better' The vixen thought to herself.

“Woah! I-It says that!?” Gus said, trying to stifle laughter of his own as he quickly began flipping through his copy.

”The overwhelming feeling of fullness as I straddled atop the massive predator had shaken me to my very core. For a moment I found myself blind, my vision white and hot as I felt my muscles squeezing desperately at his length. Trying to hungrily draw his heat deeper into my own.” Broomie was chiming in now, clearly having found the section Melanie was reading from as he read the passage in the best sleazy commentator voice he could muster. “I was almost ready to climax from the act of taking his girth to it's full hilt, knot and all. But as much as I wanted it..nay, needed it. I refused to give to such lurid pleasure without working for it. For my mate's sake as much as my own, I was going to give him the ride of his life, even if the end result left me as saddle sore as an old western ostrich rider, the quivering mess of pleasure I would be left as preceding it would be well worth it.”

Vernon was visibly sweating now, his muzzle hanging agape as Val felt a blush of her own starting to build beneath her fur. The vixen tugged briefly at the neck of her shirt in an effort to let off some of the heat that seemed to be building.

“His orgasm was tremendous, a white-hot fire that filled the very depths of my being in ways I had never experienced or could even conceive. Again my vision was white, nothing but the timpani drum of my own heart beating filling my ears as my hooves dug into his pelt as deeply as they could. A desperate clawing to keep myself tied to the ground, tied to him, or else I'd simply float away. I gripped him hungrily, my womb suckling at each renewed pulse of his essence as though it were an ancient predator sucking the marrow from a bone. All the while my body shuddered and quaked as though I was experiencing my own personal earthquake, localized entirely within my sex.”

Gus was reading now, grinning wildly as he flicked his gazes over the rapidly crumbling canine near the counter.

“It was an indescribable high, the effects of a drug impossible to replicate by any mortal mammal, and in that moment I was addicted to it. I would always be addicted to it. Even in the afterglow, as my spent body crumpled against his own, burying my face into the sopping wet fur on his chest, I couldn't bring myself to break the tie. To even consider pulling his sword from my stone. I wanted to live connected to him like this, in this moment for all eternity. Lost in his heat, in our love...”

Gus raised a brow as his grin widened.

“Sheep Dog.” The goat smirked smugly. “You animal.”

Broomie tried to stifle his giggling. “Damn Vern, I didn't know you had it in you.”

Vernon's eyes were wide now, the skin beneath his fur nearly as red as a tomato as he stared off toward his friends. Not at them, but through them. His brain seemingly struggling to process all he had heard.

“S-She said S-she...” The wolf finally managed to stutter. Suddenly Vernon shot up, the wolf standing straight and tall before he made a frantic run toward Gus and the others. The wolf had rushed at them so fast, the mammals flinched, holding their hooves up defensively as the wolf bore down on them. Vernon stopped just short of the group, snatching Gus' copy of the book right out of his hooves as he began to hysterically flip through the pages.

“SHE SAID SHE WAS GONNA CUT OUT THE MORE EXPLICIT' STUFF!” The wolf shouted, causing the three caprids to wince. The wolf was whining softly as he came to stop at a particular page. Val watched as his eyes wildly scanned across the text, his whines and whimpers getting louder and longer with each line read. The wolf dragged a trembling paw across his scalp.

“T-teeth to tails...”The wolf uttered, nearly inaudibly.

“Doesn't look cut out to me...” Broomie said with a chuckle.

Vernon's attention snapped to the ram, and in the blink of an eye, the wolf had quickly wrenched his copy of the book free of his hooves.

“Hey, I was still reading th-!”

Vernon didn't even acknowledge the ram, turning sharply on his heels toward Melanie and ripping the book from her hooves as well, clutching all three copies to his chest fearfully as his eyes flitted wildly from point to point.

Val shrunk into her shoulders, quietly slipping the copy of the book she had snagged below the counter with as little visible movement as possible. After having a goldmine like this just drop into her lap, and hearing what she heard, the last thing she wanted was for Vernon to steal it back before she had a chance to scan through the most embarrassing parts herself.

The vixen quickly went back to pretending to check her phone as the lumbering wolf tromped back up to her counter, clumsily sweeping the remaining stack of books into his arms and gripping them as though they were the last life preserver on a sinking ship.

Vernon glared at the vixen, his wild yet suspicious gaze actually managing to draw some sweat from the her. Val usually had a great poker face, but the desperation in the wolf's eyes actually had her growing increasingly worried that if she didn't come clean, he was liable to do something drastic. For a brief moment, Val couldn't help but wonder if that was the same expression the wolf had on his face when he had drowned her motorcycle. It was a thought that, despite her best efforts, caused her to shudder.

“Hey Vern...” Gus' voice was weak, almost inaudible to Val over the tension that now filled the store.

“You didn't send any copies of this to anyone before finding this out did you?”

Val didn't think the wolf's eyes were capable of growing any wider than they already were. But as a fresh look of absolute horror crawled across his muzzle, his terrified eyes seemed about ready to pop out of his skull altogether.

“OLDWYN'S GREAT GREY MUZZLE!” The wolf spat, nearly dropping some of the books his arms in the process. Vernon struggled to clasp the loose books back to his chest as he clutched a paw over his lips.

“I SHIPPED OUT COPIES TO THE WHOLE PACK JUST THIS MORNIN'!”

The door was practically blown off its hinges, bell-ringing out frantically as the wolf bolted out of the store, leaving everyone inside to stare at the portal where the wolf had once been as it slowly creaked to a close, and leaving the store in momentary, deafening silence.

“Shells preserve us.” Lewis piped up from somewhere in the store, the first mammal to break the uneasy silence. “Did she really write all that?”

“Yes...” Melanie said, a wry smile crawling across her muzzle as she glanced at her mate, looking to him for what seemed like some sort of help. “Yes, she did.”

Gus already had his hooves clutched firmly over his muzzle, having dropped the stapler entirely as he struggled to keep from laughing. Broomie didn't seem to be fairing any better, the ram beet red as he struggled to contain his laughter.

“Damn.” Lewis replied, leaving the mammals struggling to hold their laughter for a few moments before adding. “Was kinda hot though.”

Melanie broke in an instant, the other ruminerds quickly following suit as they struggled to keep from collapsing from laughter.

“I-It w-was, wa-wasn't it?” Melanie bleated between choking fits of laughter.

While not as overwhelmed with laughter as the rest of the mammals in the store, the vixen was struggling with her own snickering fit. 

“I thi-think I've c-changed m-my mind.” Gus said, struggling to catch his breath as he wiped a stray tear from his eye. “There is no way in H-Hades we are not selling that book in the store.” The goat continued, doing his best to chase away the lingering laughter still wracking his frame. “I don't care if we have to buy through the distributor against Vern's wishes, we cannot let a golden opportunity like this go to waste.”

“Oh Gus, how devilish of you.” Val chimed in, chuckling. “I approve.”

As the caprids broke into another fit of laughter, Val reached under the counter, glancing over her shoulder in each direction before pulling the book out once more. She held it below the lip of the counter as she eyed the cover once again, her sky blue irises tracing the serif's of the gold lettering as she swabbed it gently with a paw and smiled.

This book was practically a gift from the gods themselves. And endless well of material that she could use to fluster the dopey wolf to no end. That much alone made the book a fine addition to the pawful of books she actually owned. But she would have been lying if she didn't agree with Lewis' sentiment. It was, indeed, 'kinda hot'. Val smirked slightly, biting her lower lip with a fang impishly as she thought back to some of the excerpts Vernon's friends had read aloud. Those chapters were definitely going to require some very intense study, and multiple times too as far as Val was concerned. Maybe she'd even have to go as far as buying a digital copy as well. After all, those e-books were way easier to hold with one paw.


End file.
